Come What May
by halfasblind
Summary: OTH, SPN Crossover. Chapter 11 up! Things for Dean and Peyton change in New Orleans. And not necessarily in a good way. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

**Come What May: Chapter One**

Dean Winchester was on the road to nowhere. That seemed to always be his destination, though. For as long as he could remember the roads were endless, the journey laid out before him in blood and tears.

After his mother's death, he had never expected this to become his life. A life on the road with nowhere to call home. Sure, it was exciting and he was good at what he did, but sometimes he wanted more.

Sometimes he wanted… roots.

On his road trips he would pass houses with kids playing in the yard and parts of him yearned for that. Part of him wanted the wife and the kids and hell even the picket fence. It was all very _Leave It to Beaver_, sure, but his parents had had it. Why couldn't he have it?

Why did traipsing all over the United States have to be the be all and end all of who he was? There was more to him than this vendetta that had blinded and imprisoned him all his life.

More importantly he wanted there to be more.

He couldn't remember the last time he had remained in one place longer than two weeks. Hell, he could barely remember the last time he was in the same room with his father and brother.

It had been over a month since he'd seen his father, even longer since he'd seen Sam. His car was like his family, the only reliable thing that he had in his wasteful existence.

And then that was blown to holy hell!

"No, no, no," Dean shouted as the car's engine began to sputter and steam leaked from beneath the hood.

He pulled over to the side of the road as the car slowly died. Dean quickly turned off the ignition and hopped out of the car, circling to the front to assess the situation. He lifted the hood, waving the smoke away as he tried to locate the problem.

Dropping to his knees, he peeked under the car and sighed. Just what he needed. A cracked radiator. Perfect! "Well… shit," Dean cursed as he stared at his car, kicking the bumper in frustration.

This was not what he needed, especially not…

_Where the fuck was he?_

He flipped open his cell phone only to find that his battery had died. "Well, can my day possibly get any worse?" he wondered aloud as a passing car full of teenagers threw a milkshake at his car. Vanilla milkshake spilled over the windshield as Dean stood idly by, staring helplessly as the contents leaked down his windshield.

After twenty minutes of walking up and down the road trying desperately to get a signal on his phone, Dean gave up. He couldn't even hitch a ride into town because his car seemed to have died out on a deserted stretch of road.

Huffing and muttering curses under his breath, he grabbed his duffel bag out of his backseat, locked up his car and headed up the road towards the town that he had passed not more than a half-hour before.

Dean walked into Karen's Café, making a beeline for the counter, desperately in need of something to drink. He fell onto a stool as he dropped his bag at his feet.

"Hey, what can I getcha?" the blonde waitress asked, looking at him perturbed.

"Uh… a coffee and oh a phonebook if you have it," he said, smiling cordially at the young waitress as she set a coffee mug in front of him, then filled it.

Dean watched as she reached under the counter, brandishing a thick yellow phone book. "What are you looking for?" she asked as she flipped it open.

"A tow truck. My car died out on me a few miles from here."

She clucked her tongue as she lifted her eyes to meet his. "River Road?"

Dean shrugged. "I have no idea what it's called but it's more or less deserted out there."

She nodded her head with a smile. "Yeah, that's River Road. No one goes out there in the daylight hours. If you were a local, you'd know that."

"Yeah… I'm not a local," he said with a shake of his head.

"I figured," she said, leafing through the phone book pages for the towing services. Finding it, she turned the book over to him. "So where are you from?"

"Kansas."

She whistled. "What the hell are you doing in Tree Hill?"

"Just passing through." He was about to ask her for the phone when she handed the cordless handset to him.

"Try not to clog up the line for too long."

Before Dean could reply with something witty, she had gone off to tend to her the tables as he returned to the task at hand.

He had left sometime later, making his way across town to Kirby's Garage. He had accompanied Kirby back to River Road for the retrieval of his car.

It was only after a twenty minute inspection from Kirby back at the garage that Dean found out that he indeed was in need of a new radiator and unfortunately for him Kirby didn't work on weekends.

Besides that fact, his radiator wouldn't make it's way to Tree Hill before Tuesday.

After leaving Kirby's Garage, Dean had made his way back to Karen's Café. Lucky for him the pretty waitress was still working. "You're back," she said astonished as he slid back onto the stool that he had occupied earlier that afternoon. "I figured I'd seen the last of you."

"Afraid not," he said as she fixed him a fresh cup of coffee. "Kirby can't fix it until the part gets here and it's not gonna be here before Tuesday."

"Aww, I'm sorry."

Dean shrugged as he reached for the sugar packets. "It ain't like I'm needed anywhere."

"Well, you know, since you're going to be in town you should come to Tric."

"Okay and that is…?"

"The local nightclub. Karen who owns the café, she opened the club last year for us younglings," she smirked. "And you picked a hell of a weekend to get stranded here. Fall Out Boy is playing tonight and tomorrow for the Summer Kick Off Party."

Oh, to be seventeen again… but then again, when was he ever seventeen?

"Sounds like fun." Dean stuck out his hand. "I'm Dean, by the way."

She shook his hand cordially. "Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm Haley." Then, "Where the hell have you been?"

Dean looked at her quizzically for a few seconds, then realized as a guy sidled up beside him that she was talking to _him_.

"Sorry, sorry," the guy told her as he slipped into the chair beside Dean. "I was with Peyton."

"That should surprise me but for some reason it doesn't."

"She needed me, Hales."

"I needed your butt here. Your mom's away for the entire summer and I can't handle this place by myself, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry." He looked around. "Where's Deb?"

"Heck if I know," she said, grabbing the coffee pot to do her rounds. She peeked into Dean's cup. "Another refill?"

"Uh… nah. I have to be going," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He reached into his pocket, throwing a couple of bills down onto the counter.

"Where are you going to be staying?"

"I have no idea, yet." He had yet to look into the lodging of Tree Hill.

"Try the River Walk Inn," the boy from beside him suggested.

"Lucas, he doesn't know where that is," Haley snapped at her best friend.

"I'll take him there. I mean… unless you need me here."

Haley shot him an evil glare, then softened, saying, "Well since you're helping out poor old Dean here, I guess it's okay."  
_  
Poor old Dean? _

He was already being pitied by the lady folk. That was never a good sign. Dean slung his duffel over his shoulder as he and Lucas made their way out of the café. "You know you don't have to do this," Dean told Lucas once they were outside. "You could point me in the direction and I could find this inn myself."

"Nah, it's cool. I don't mind. Besides, Haley would never let me live it down if I bailed out on you. Plus, I'm headed out to the River Walk anyhow."

"Well thank you. I appreciate it… Lucas, right?"

Lucas nodded his head. "Lucas Scott."

"Dean Winchester."

"So, Dean… I don't know if Haley mentioned this to you or not, but Fall Out Boy is performing tonight at Tric."

"Haley may have mentioned it."

"So what do ya say?"

Nightclub and concert or sitting in his hotel room watching porn? It was no contest.

Tric, it was!

* * *

The band had yet to grace the stage, Dean mused as he walked into Tric brandishing his bright pink bracelet.

Why were they always pink? Were there no manly colors? Black? It was a nice, bold--not to mention manly--color. What was wrong with that color?

But pink? He felt so… so… so _girly_!

Dean made his way toward the bar as he looked around for Lucas and Haley. "Of course. The only two people I know and they stand me up. Figures."

"What?"

Dean's head snapped up to stare into a pair of bright green eyes from the opposite side of the bar. His eyes slid upward, taking in her curly locks of blonde hair. God… how tall was she? She must have legs for days. _Bad thoughts, Dean_, he scolded himself.

He smiled sheepishly at her as she disappeared from his sight to pick up a box off the floor. "Oh, uh… talking to myself. Sorry. I didn't think anyone was listening." She was back at eye level a second later, pulling napkins out of the box. "You the bartender?" Dean asked, watching her with wild-eyed fascination.

"Yeah… why?"

Dean shrugged. "No reason. You just look a little young to be working here." He instantly regretted the words the moment they flew out of his mouth.

Peyton barely took notice of them, though. "Thanks… I think."

"I didn't mean it like it came out. My head and tongue don't work in sync."

"I'm sure your girlfriend takes quite a displeasure in that," she teased.

Dean's eyes widened at her bravado. She had rendered him speechless and not many females were capable of such a feat.

As he waged his internal battle of male ego, she told him, "I usually just manage the entertainment here but since I'm in charge throughout the summer while the owner's out of town I have to make sure everything's running smoothly."

She began transferring the napkin packs to underneath the counter, then all of a sudden, her eyes snapped up at him, her hands flying to the sides of her head. "Did you want something to drink? I'm so sorry," she said, resting her hands on top of his. "You were there flirting and talking and I just…"

She caught that he was flirting with her despite being so consumed by her job. Interesting. "It's okay. I was enjoying watching you work."

Dean watched as a blush reddened her cheeks. He'd flustered her! She didn't exude calmness as she tried to make him believe.

"So how about that drink?" she offered. "The first one's on me."

The thoughts that flashed through Dean's dirty little mind. He leered at her, giggling at his thoughts as he said, "Just a beer, please. Miller Lite."

"Coming right up." She disappeared for a moment, returning seconds later with his beer, setting it on a napkin in front of him. He mumbled a thank you as she said, "I don't recall seeing you around here before. You must be new around town."

Dean took a sip from his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed. "Afraid so. I'm just passing through… well, I would've been _just passing through _if car trouble hadn't landed me in town for a few days."

"So you don't have family here?"

Dean shook his head. "No. No family, no friends. I know next to nothing about this town. Heck, I'd be in my hotel room right now staring at the cracked wallpaper if it hadn't been for Lucas and Haley."

Peyton stared at him blankly. He knew next to nothing about Tree Hill but he just casually assuaged to knowing two of her friends? "You know Lucas and Haley?"

"Oh we go way back," he smirked, lifting the beer bottle to his lips again. "You know them, too?"

Peyton nodded her head. "Luke's mom owns Tric, actually. Besides, I live here. Of course I'd know them. Which begs the question, how do _you _know Lucas and Haley?"

Dean eyed her skeptically for a moment as he said, "I met them this afternoon. I had to walk into town from River Road where my car decided to stall on me…."

Peyton couldn't stifle her laughter. "Ah, I've been in your place many times before. My car loves to break down out there." Her very first conversation with Lucas had been out on that road. He had made fun of her for being a cheerleader.

"Yeah did you ever have to walk back into town?"

"No," she answered quickly. "Dude… that's like a five mile walk!"

"You're telling me! Anyway, the first place I set eyes on when I entered town was Karen's Café."

"So that's where you met Luke and Haley. I should've known."

"So am I gonna have to call you 'The Hot Bartender' or are you gonna tell me your name?"

It had been a long time since a guy had openly flirted with her and it was catching Peyton a little off-guard. But this guy seemed harmless. Besides he'd be leaving town after a few days. No harm, no foul. "Peyton," she murmured. "My name's Peyton."

Dean held out his hand to her. "Nice to meet you, Peyton. I'm Dean."

Peyton eyed his hand cautiously for a few moments before she shook it, trying hard to ignore the shot of heat that coursed through her body the second her skin touched his.

Pulling her hand back quickly and a bit awkwardly, she asked, "So after your car's fixed, where are you headed?"

"Don't know, actually. My job takes me here and there and I don't know until the last minute on where the next _there _is." Note to self, he had to remember to find a newspaper stand in the morning to begin researching supernatural occurrences.

"And you've yet to find out your next destination?"

"Something like that."

Peyton nodded her head slowly. "Well, enjoy your time here. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone and you won't want to leave," she joked, unaware of the nonplussed look that washed across Dean's face as she turned away to tend to another customer.

* * *

Dean had spent forty-five minutes sitting at the bar talking to Peyton, regaling her with stories of his time on the road and more recently of his exploits when he and Sam were kids. He boasted of his brother being a BMOC at Stanford, not letting it slip under his radar that it was the first time that he had openly told anyone that he was proud of his baby brother.

A part of him was always resentful to his younger brother for going off to college leaving Dean and his dad alone to avenge their mother's death.

But then there was the other part… the part that was proud and relieved that Sam was safe and sound at Stanford, that he was living out his dream.

Peyton had stared at him in wonderment for a moment or two, her eyes questioning. But she didn't voice a single one aloud to him.

"You seem envious of your brother."

"In a way I am, I guess. He went off to college, abandoned the family… I couldn't be that selfish."

She cocked her head to the side, studying him as she asked, "Why couldn't you? Why'd you have to be the one to stick around? Why couldn't you go off to college like your brother did? It may be none of my business, but you deserve the same things, the same opportunities as him, Dean. Family obligation or not."

Dean regarded her with a sly smile, wanting so desperately to tell her _why _he couldn't do the things that his brother did. Sam didn't feel the need to seek revenge on the demon that killed their mother like Dean did. He was just a baby when their mother was murdered. He barely knew her. But Dean had had years with her. He could still remember how her hair felt between his fingertips. Every now and then the familiar scent of her perfume hit his nostrils. Sam didn't have those memories. Sam only remembered what was told to him and what old family pictures represented.

No, he certainly couldn't tell Peyton the truth. Tell no one. It was the family motto.

Lying to people had become second nature to him so now he didn't think twice about it. So why did it bother him to lie to Peyton?

Finally, Dean made up some lame excuse about being on a road of self-discovery away from his father and brother to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. He didn't want to make his life the "family business", an excuse that she had seemed content with, thankfully.

He had tried to change the subject, but the conversation only shifted and they wound up talking about their parents. They had talked about their abandonment issues with their fathers and the toll that being raised without a mother took on their lives.

He had never expected to bond so much with one person. And it scared the hell out of him, especially knowing that within a few days time he would be on the road again and Tree Hill would be a distant memory.

Dean was honestly grateful for Lucas and Haley interrupting his bonding session with Peyton to pull him onto the dance floor for the concert.

"You and Peyton seemed pretty cozy back there," Haley remarked once they had found a spot on the dance floor.

Dean feigned innocence, even as he glanced back at Peyton. "I don't know what you're talking about," he told her as the overhead lights began to flash, signaling that the band was about to take stage.

As Fall Out Boy began their performance, Dean stood in the crowd bobbing his head to the music even though his mind was elsewhere. Once again, he glanced behind him toward Peyton, preferring to be talking to her as opposed to being where he was.

And that in itself presented a problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

**Come What May: Chapter Two**

After the band had finished their performance, Dean had expected the club to vacate, but Haley assured him that the party would go on for hours. He had stood idly by as Haley and Lucas were joined by numerous of their friends, whom he was introduced to one by one. Unfortunately he couldn't recall any of their obscure names.

When everyone around had suddenly disappeared, Dean was left to his own devices. Haley had scurried off to the bathroom and Peyton had come to collect Lucas and the guys for some heavy lifting. She hadn't asked for his assistance and that had bothered him a little. Though, he had no idea why.

He had gone back to the bar, careful to ignore the sinful smile of one of the other female bartenders. He hadn't had a chance to make an ass of himself because Haley had come to his rescue, leading him back to the dance floor.

"Thank you," he had told her as music began to filter through the speakers.

"No problem. I doubt you'd want Peyton to find out that you were flirting with one of her coworkers," Haley teased him as a D.J. took the stage.

"I don't know what you're insinuating," Dean shouted at her over the loud music, "But I'm not sure I like it."

Haley laughed as Lucas and Skills sidled up beside her. "Go ahead and play dumb, then."

"Play dumb about what?" Lucas inquired.

"Nothing," Dean blurted out as Haley quickly followed with, "Dean's fascination with Peyton."

"I do not have a fascination with Peyton," he insisted.

Haley, Lucas and Skills begged to disagree. "It's okay, Dean. I mean, it's not like you're attracted to Fergie," Haley giggled.

Talk of Dean's attraction to Peyton quickly died down when he threatened to vacate the dance floor. Haley would hear none of it, though.

He had remained on the dance floor dancing, though it wasn't of his own free will. Haley had threatened to break off limbs had he moved an inch. When he had looked to Lucas for help Lucas had simply shrugged his shoulders, instructing Dean to move his feet to at least allude to dance. So, he had.

Dean had never been so relieved when a slow song finally came on which gave him the opportunity to head to the bar as people partnered up. Haley had tried to grab him, but he quickly moved out of her grasp, pushing Lucas toward her instead.

"That was some nice moves you were displaying out there," Peyton teased him as he slid onto a stool at the bar.

"Laugh it up all you want, but I've exceeded my dancing quota for the next century. I'm all tapped out," he told her as he ordered another beer.

Peyton frowned as she handed him an ice cold bottle. "Pity. I was just about to ask you to come out there with me." Smiling at Dean's look of surprise, Peyton told him, "I've been stuck behind this bar all night. I need a break and since Haley's dancing with Lucas… you're the only dancing partner I see in sight. I mean, unless you don't think your reputation can sustain one slow dance."

He quickly shook his head, setting his beer down on the counter. "Uh… no," he answered quickly. "I think it'll be good through another song."

Peyton led him out into the crowd and into the middle of the dance floor. Awkwardness ensued as they slid into dance position, her arms around his neck, his draped around her waist.

Dean felt like a grade school student at his first dance. A hundred emotions swirled through him in waves: nervousness and awkwardness accompanied by a weird twinge of calmness as well.

It wasn't that he couldn't slow dance. If there was a dance that he did well it was slow dance, but being in such close proximity to Peyton…

Before his thoughts could fully form in his head, Peyton interrupted him, asking, "So when you aren't, you know, driving cross-country to find yourself, where are you? Where's home?"

He'd left home behind a long time ago. He stopped having a home the night his mother was murdered. But he didn't tell her that. Instead, he coughed out, "Kansas."

Oh, what a tangled web of lies he weaved… But it wasn't a lie. Then again it wasn't a whole truth either.

"Kansas," she echoed. "You're a long way from home."

"If you can even call it that."

Peyton eyed him with concern as his cocky smile resurfaced. But it was his eyes… His eyes betrayed him, mirroring a sadness that Peyton knew all too well.

She suddenly knew that there was something there, a hidden depth that Dean didn't let very many people see. He was broken, and for a moment that gave her pause.

Despite the fact that she'd dealt with her fair share of guys with issues, a part of her longed to know what or who it was that had turned Dean into the tortured man that stood before her.

But the real question was, did he trust her enough to unleash his inner demons on her? There was more plaguing him than just his mother's death, that was for certain.

As Peyton's arms tightened around his neck, Dean fought hard to react to her. She was captivating his senses, spinning his body into overdrive. The last thing he needed or wanted was a weekend romance and the longer he spent in Peyton's company the stronger his attraction to her grew.

So what was he doing? He was crazy. This was crazy. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing _this_.

He shouldn't be doing _this _with _her_.

_And what exactly was he doing? _

_Dancing_, his conscience informed him. But he knew from past experience that dancing was far from innocent and the way that his fingers curved around her waist did not go unnoticed, neither did the second his fingers grazed along bare skin when her shirt slipped up…

Well, that could only lead to trouble.

Dean took a step back, disengaging himself from Peyton's arms. "I should probably go."

Confusion knitted her brows. "Go?" she mimicked him. "Now?" She was honestly confused. She thought that things were going pretty good. They had spent the better part of the night engaged in polite conversation. She wasn't that sucky of a conversationalist, was she? Had she stepped on his toes? Did she smell funky? He had a girlfriend. That had to be it. A guy that looked like he did had to have a girlfriend. Of course! That was it. When she started asking about home he remembered. Duh.

Dean didn't know what to do… or say. She was only seventeen. And he… never got the chance to be seventeen. He was never afforded that innocence and there was no way in hell that he was going to strip Peyton of hers. If she got involved with him… if he let her care about him she would only end up hurt.

There were facets of his life that he had to keep to himself and a relationship built on a web of lies wasn't really a relationship at all. Leading Peyton on and hurting her in the long run was something that he couldn't contemplate doing. Hurting her was the last thing that he wanted to do. So he would go and protect them both from the risk of expecting too much from something that was doomed from the start.

"I'll uh… I'll see you around, Peyton."

Then, he turned and walked away, catching the attention of Lucas and Haley as he made his way toward the door. Haley ran over to meet him, begging him to stay. He had thanked her for inviting him along, but he'd feigned tiredness, an excuse that she accepted without further inquisition.

With one last look at Peyton, he made his leave.

* * *

Dean hadn't been able to sleep which was why he was walking the River Walk at seven o'clock in the morning. After he'd gotten back to his room sometime after midnight, he had showered, and readied himself for bed, willing thoughts of Peyton out of his head.

Unfortunately that didn't happen. Even after had had settled in bed and watched Striptease on TV, he still dreamt of Peyton.

He wasn't used to being so overwhelmed by his feelings. He had never had this happen before. Normally he would have the typical one night stand and slip out of bed before she woke and knew he was gone.

Perhaps that's where he'd gone wrong.

He had talked to Peyton. He had actually had a conversation with her that went beyond what was his preferred beer choice and whether he liked blondes or brunettes.

He had felt comfortable enough to tell her parts of his family history, something that he'd never done with anyone ever before. In turn, she had unloaded some of her family woe onto him and aside from protecting others from the supernatural, he felt useful, like he had helped her in some way as they exchanged war stories.

As he sipped his coffee watching the boats move through the harbor, Dean's thoughts returned to the night before and to the way that he'd made his abrupt leave.

He had been a jackass, but what else was new?

In his defense it had been a knee-jerk reaction to all the feelings bubbling up inside of him. He wasn't ready to face them, nor did he want to face them at all. Peyton was a child, one that he couldn't get involved with. And it wasn't just about her age. Sure that did have a lot to do with it but also who he was and what he did had a lot to do with his decision to keep his distance from her.

He was only in town a short while and it wouldn't be fair to her to string her along knowing that in a few days time he would be leaving. He wouldn't dream of hurting her in that way. She had been hurt enough.

From what she told him, she was used to being left in the dust. Her mom had died when she was young. Her dad was constantly leaving her for work. Her best friend had abandoned her for the summer and her last boyfriend had left her as well. He was sure that there was more to Peyton's story than she was letting on, but that could be his own guilt in giving her a modified version of his life story.

But just because he couldn't sustain a relationship with her, did that mean he had to rebuff her friendship as well?

Yes. It was better this way, he told himself. It was better that he didn't get anymore involved in the lives of Haley, Lucas and Peyton than he already was. He didn't want to further complicate their lives and he would do that if he got too close to them.

_Especially Peyton. _

He had found himself thinking about making frequent trips to Tree Hill just to be able to be with her. He was wanting to rearrange his life to make room for her and that was not a good thing. It would only get him into trouble and make him weak.

And he had no room for weakness in his line of work. He couldn't afford to have someone depend on him and as much as he longed for something that resembled roots, he couldn't put that burden on Peyton's shoulders.

But still there was that one tiny part of him that second guessed all of his readymade decisions. Part of him couldn't help but wonder what if…?

Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice that he wasn't alone, not until he turned and nearly toppled over Peyton in the process. "Peyton! What… what are you doing here?"

"I was going to see you actually." She held up a white paper bag with Karen's Café emblazoned on the front. "I come bearing muffins from the café. I figured maybe you'd be interested in breakfast. My treat."

He smiled at her. It was such a sweet gesture, one that it killed him to turn down. "I appreciate you thinking of me, but no thanks. I can't."

Dean hesitated a moment before he began walking back in the direction of his hotel room, stopping first at the newsstand to pick up a few newspapers.

When he arrived back at his hotel room, he slammed the papers down on the table, his frustration finally reaching it's boiling point. Dean took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that this was how it was supposed to be.

He was pulling off his jacket when there was a knock at the door. Expelling a deep, frustrated breath, he stalked toward the door and wasn't at all surprised to find Peyton standing on the other side. "Can I come in?" she asked him softly.

After a moment's hesitation, he held the door open wider, allowing her inside. "I didn't mean to blow you off," he told her as he shut the door.

"It's breakfast, Dean," she said frankly watching as he leaned against the door, keeping his distance. "It's not like it's a freaking bulletin board plastered with pictures of you that says 'I Heart Dean'," she told him in a huff. "You have to eat, don't you?"

"Yeah." Okay, so she had a point. Big friggin' deal. That didn't change his stance.

"Or do you just live on coffee and beer?"

"I probably could if I wanted to," he joked. His laughter died when she sent a glare in his direction. Clearly she was not amused. "Not funny? Right. Sorry."

"It's the age thing, isn't it?"

"No. Yes." He sighed. "Okay… maybe a little." It _was _the age thing. He couldn't lie. But it was also the fact that she would never know who he was. Sure, she'd get a few glimpses of him now and again but what good was being in a relationship when you couldn't be completely honest with the other person?

He couldn't be her Prince Charming or promise her the fairytale. So what was the point?

"How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty-six. Why?"

"No reason," Peyton said with a shrug. Truth was she wanted to put her mind at ease with the age difference between them. Eight years was a healthy difference, though. She could see his reluctance to get close to her. A relationship with her could land him in jail. "Look, just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean we can't hang out. I mean… are you going to ignore Lucas and Haley, too?"

"Lucas and Haley aren't you," he argued, frowning at his word choice. Way to go, Dean, he silently chided himself. Lay it all on the line right here and now.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nevermind," he said, wanting to get away from this topic of conversation. He was attracted to her, that much was obvious by now and already he knew that if he spent anymore time with her it wasn't going to make leaving town in a few days any easier. As if being in the same room alone with her at the moment was making it any easier on him as it was.

"You're in town just a few days and all I'm offering is a little companionship. That's all."

"Companionship?" he repeated. "What am I, a fucking Cocker Spaniel?"

"I'll only pet you if you want me to," she smirked cheekily.

The first rebuttal to pop into Dean's head was something that included licking that she no doubt would find dirty by all means so he kept his mouth shut. He didn't know her well enough to be throwing sexual barbs at her.

Not yet anyway.

"You better be careful I may take you up on that offer," he said, watching as she fell onto his bed. He realized a moment later that his valiant effort to keep his distance had been shot to hell.

She only smiled as she pulled open her bag of goodies, throwing a blueberry muffin at him. "Eat up. We have a busy day ahead of us."

Dean eyed her curiously as he juggled his muffin from hand to hand. "And what exactly are we doing?"

"It's a surprise."

"Well, you better tell me now. I don't like surprises."

"Noted, but I'm not telling you. Now, eat," she ordered as he moved toward her, settling down beside her on the bed.

"You're bossy," he muttered under his breath.

"Oh, stop your whining. You know you like it," she said nudging his shoulder playfully, relieved that the tension was gone when he nudged her back.

* * *

After they'd left the inn, Peyton had led him toward the pier where they stopped for coffee. "I thought you said that there was a surprise in store for me," Dean said when Peyton failed to veer away from the pier.

"There is."

"I don't wanna state the obvious here but I've seen the pier. Many times, in fact. I doubt we'll see anything shocking unless you strip down and jump into the water." Idle fantasies were his friend.

Peyton rolled her eyes as she moved ahead of him. She spun around to face Dean when he asked, "So… what's your deal, Peyton?"

"My deal?" she mimicked.

"Yeah. Why are you hanging out with me? Don't you have a boyfriend to be all companionable to?" When she remained silent, he exclaimed, "Oh, please tell me there's a guy somewhere, anywhere! You cannot be single."

Peyton shook her head. "Nope. I'm as single as they come."

"That's such a shame."

"Not really," Peyton insisted. "I'm used to being alone. Sometimes I prefer it."

Dean didn't buy it. "Who's the poor sap who got away?"

An image of Jake flashed into her head, but Peyton quickly willed it away. He was never coming back and she had spent way too much time dwelling on it. It was time to move on.

"We just… there were mitigating circumstances." The Jake story was not one she wanted to go into now and especially not with Dean. She knew that he wouldn't be judgmental of the situation, but the wounds were still fresh and she didn't want to dredge them up now. Especially since the way Dean made her feel was how she had felt at the very beginning with Jake. She didn't want to taint what could be with what could have been.

"It seems there always are."

"And what about you? Is there a girl back in Kansas waiting for you?"

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "No, there's, uh… there's no girl. I'm not really… I haven't… there's been no time for relationships."

"Is that guy speak for 'I don't do relationships'?" Dean scoffed, but Peyton saw right through him. "I figured as much."

"It's not that I don't do relationships, it's that I _can't_."

Yeah, like she hadn't heard that excuse a hundred times. "You can't?"

Dean shook his head fervently. "I'm never in one place long enough to get to know one person and it's just not fair to keep some girl hanging on when I can never be sure if I'm ever going to see her again."

"But isn't it worth the effort to try?"

"When I find someone I can't live without? Maybe."

"And you haven't found her?"

Dean stared at her blankly, wondering how it was that she was capable of asking all the right questions. "No… I haven't found her yet."

"You will."

Dean was grateful for her optimism. "Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"Well… I mean… you're good looking."

Dean took offense. "Just good looking?"

Peyton ignored him. "You can't dance that well so that's a few marks, obviously."

"You're honestly going to ridicule my dancing?"

"Well, in all fairness you did run out on me before I could make a proper evaluation."

"You know, I understand why you're still single," Dean quipped.

Peyton sucked in a breath as she swatted at his arm. "That was cruel, Dean!" she said, outraged.

"Hey, Blondie, you started it."

"Okay, fine…," Peyton relented as they moved toward the railing overlooking the harbor. "I'm glad you got stuck here, Dean."

Dean smiled at her over the rim of his Styrofoam coffee cup as he lifted it to his lips. "I'm glad I got stuck here, too."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

**Come What May: Chapter Three**

Dean tried hard to ignore Haley's piercing stare. He was looking off into the distance, trying desperately not to meet her gaze, but it was hard. Finally having had enough, he looked her square in the eyes, declaring, "Okay. Fine! What? _What?_!"

"What?"

"You keep staring me down… I figured you were trying to tell me something."

Haley sat forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Now that you mention it there was something that I wanted to talk to you about…"

"Oh, and that would be…?"

He met Haley's gaze which was fixated on something over his head. He didn't even have to turn his head to know what she was looking at. Or rather who_. Peyton_. Dean sighed in resignation. This was going to be a very long night…

"So, you and Peyton…," she began.

Dean groaned. "Oh, geez…"

"You two spent all day together, correct?"

"Yeah. We hung out. We walked. We talked. We took in a movie. What's the big deal?"

"You like spending time together?"

"I like spending time with her and I _guess _she likes spending time with me, too. You'd have to ask her that yourself."

Haley shook her head, lowering her voice as she said, "Dean, I don't think this is a good idea."

"What?"

"You and Peyton."

He'd never had someone try to dissuade him for going after a girl before. And even though he liked Haley and knew that she was looking out for the best interest of her friend, part of him was tempted to tell her to mind her own damn business. But he didn't. She had her reasons for being concerned. "There is no me and Peyton, Haley. We're just… hanging out."

"Uh huh," she said disbelievingly.

"We are!" he insisted even though the point was moot. Everyone knew that he and Peyton weren't just hanging out. Even though he liked to pretend whatever going on with Peyton was strictly platonic, it wasn't. They acted like a couple dating, save from the benefits, of course.

But it wasn't like he hadn't thought about. Because he had it. In detail. With lights and sounds and…

Yes, his mind was a scary place and you wouldn't want to vacation there.

"Yeah, right. Don't take me for stupid, Dean. I see the looks that you two have been sending one another and those are not at all friendly or platonic."

"You're an old married woman like you could spot a look, platonic or otherwise," he sneered.

"You'll be leaving next week and none of us will probably ever see you again. Don't start something that you can't or won't see through. That's all I'm saying." She had seen what leaving did to Peyton and Haley didn't want to have to watch Peyton go through that again.

Despite the fact that Haley had no say in whatever happened between he and Peyton--or didn't happen, for that matter--he chided, "You're a good friend, Haley. Peyton's lucky to have you."

Some good friend she was. She had ditched all of her friends as well as her husband to go on tour with Chris Keller. Yeah, she took the prize. Luckily, she had learned the error of her ways. She was home for good and planned to make up for lost time. She just wished that Nathan had stuck around long enough for her to prove to him that she wasn't going leaving ever again.

"I just don't want to see her heart broken again. It took her a lot to get through it the last time and I just don't want to see her to have to go through that again. I know you wouldn't hurt her purposefully, Dean. I know that we've known from the beginning that you're leaving but I think we were all culpable to the Winchester wiles."

Dean smirked. "I can't help it if all the women love me."

"What's your excuse for Lucas?"

"Uh… I'm just _that _pretty?"

Haley rolled her eyes at him. "I'm going warn Peyton about you," she warned. "Promise me that you won't mislead her or break her heart. That's all I ask."

Once again he wanted to insist that he and Peyton were no more than friends, but how much longer could he deny how he felt about her? He was only in town for a few more days and his window of opportunity was fading fast. "I promise," he swore.

But what good were his promises anyway? He very rarely kept a promise, but this was one that he could. He didn't want to hurt Peyton and merely a few days ago he had no intentions of getting close enough to hurt her. Of course he said that now. His intention and clear thinking were usually tossed aside when he was in her presence.

Haley slipped from the table as Peyton approached. "Hope she didn't leave on my account," Peyton said as she slid into the seat previously occupied by Haley.

Dean shook his head, not wanting to relive his tumultuous conversation with Haley on the ins and outs of their relationship. Boy, that'd be an awkward conversation. "Nah… she had to… go do… something or talk… to someone or… something," he stammered, coughing uncomfortably.

Peyton seemed not to notice, or care. "So…" she began.

"So…"

"You gonna sit here all night? I was getting lonesome at the bar with no one to talk to."

Dean motioned to the group of boys sitting at the bar, still fawning over Peyton. One was even blowing her kisses. He had to tamp down the urge to stalk to the bar and rip Mr. J. Crew from his chair. "Lonesome? You?" He motioned to the bar. "Because you seemed to have a lot of company. Besides, I didn't want to intrude on the Peyton Love Parade."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly," he scoffed even though he knew he was. It wasn't like Peyton was his girlfriend… he just didn't like other guys talking to her. _Geez, Dean, you're sounding like a boyfriend_, his conscience pointed out.

"They're regulars," Peyton intervened. "Freshmen from the community college. Annoying ones, at that," she said even as she waved to one, unable to ignore the pointed look that Dean threw at her when he took notice.

"It is possible to be annoying and charming at the same time, you know."

"Yeah, you pull off that feat pretty well."

"How'd we wind up going from talking about annoying college boys to me?"

"Everything always comes back to you."

"Your adoring fans are waiting," he pointed out as he picked up his beer, frowning when it turned up empty.

"I'd rather sit here with you."

Dean smiled, glad that she wasn't running back to the co-eds. She wanted to be with _him_. He knew that he shouldn't be so giddy over the fact, considering his stance just a few days before on not getting involved with her. Plus, if you counted his conversation with one of her best friends mere seconds before...

Ow…

His head hurt from all the logical thinking.

Logicality be damned! "So what are we doing after you get off work?"

* * *

They had wound up spending the night at Tric after Peyton was finished with her shift. Talk about their relationship or lack thereof was further fueled as they spent the night in each other's company, only breaking when one of them had to make a trip to the restroom or when Haley demanded a dance from Dean.

After TRIC had closed it's doors for the night, they had stayed behind for clean up but no cleaning up was done. Instead, they had turned on the portable stereo that Peyton kept behind the counter and danced even more, save for the hundred pairs of eyes watching their every move.

"You don't dance so bad," Peyton teased Dean as they moved slowly along to the music streaming from the small boom box.

"Thank you. I'm glad that you've taken notice."

"Well, I have."

"Lucas has been giving me lessons," he joked. "While you're at work we steam up the windows in the café."

"You're lucky no one's around to hear you joke about that."

"Why?"

"Because it could be misconstrued and everyone wouldn't be so concerned with the two of us anymore."

"Right… right." Dean tightened his grip on her, pulling her flush against him. "I have no interest in Lucas. I just want to state that right now."

"Who do you have an interest in?" Peyton wondered, knowing that there was no way she was going to get an honest answer out of him, especially once they started kidding around.

"Fergie," he answered quickly. "I think it's his hair. It's get me all hot."

Peyton pushed him away, playfully. "Come on, Romeo. Let's get this place cleaned up."

"Or it could wait until tomorrow."

"No. It can't," she insisted. "We have plans for tomorrow or have you forgotten?"

"Beach. Everyone. Nope. Haven't forgotten," he said tapping his head. "Like a machine."

"I'm glad that your brain is capable of storing data that was told to you only hours ago, but you agreed to help so come on," she told him as she pulled him in the direction of the bar, ignoring his moans of protest.

"You never said anything about manual labor," he pointed out as she threw a washcloth at him.

"I know I didn't. If I had, would you have stuck around?"

"Uh… no." Rounding the bar, he caught her hand, pulling her out from behind it. "Come on. You have people that do this. You don't have to. You wanted me to stay with you. Not with your trusty friends Lysol and Clorox."

Peyton relented as soon as they were back on the dance floor, once again finding herself locked in Dean's embrace. "You know, I could get spoiled to this," she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

"So could I," he admitted, closing his eyes as they continued to sway to the music.

* * *

Dean woke to the sound of insistent pounding on his door. Yawning, he glanced at his clock, moaning, "Seven. Sunday. It must be a joke."

He lay still for a moment, hoping that he had dreamt the knocking, but alas it started again a few seconds later.

Kicking back the blankets, he stumbled out of bed, mumbling and grumbling to himself as he made his way across the room. He flung open the door not surprised in the least to find Peyton waiting for him.

"I have…," Peyton began, her gaze dropping to zone in on Dean's bare chest and the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Black ones that hugged his muscular legs, she noted. "… coff-coffee," she finished with a stammer, her mouth suddenly dry despite the coffee she had just dumped in the trashcan a few blocks back.

"Come in," he said, leaving the door open for her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I figured you'd be awake," she told him as she closed the door. When she turned around Dean was pulling a pair of jeans over his hips and it took all her might not to moan out loud.

"If you wouldn't have kept me out so late last night I probably would've been up a lot earlier," he told her as he zipped his pants, leaving them unbuttoned.

_God, must he turn me on? _Peyton wondered silently as he stalked toward her, grabbing the coffee out of her hand. "Uh… yeah… sorry… about that."

"No big deal. Don't worry about it," he said, taking a sip from the coffee cup. "Mmm," he moaned. "Good. Just what I needed it."

Peyton leaned against his dresser, trying her damnedest to not focus on his chest. Floor. Wall. Ceiling. Bed.

_Bed_…

_Gulp_!

_Focus, Peyton! _She told herself.

Floor. Okay. Good.

Carpet.

Dean's feet. _Shit_!

Dean's legs.

Dean's unbuttoned jeans.

_Look at his face! Look at his face! _

_LOOK. AT. HIS. FACE._

Even despite her best attempts not to look, her eyes snapped back to his chest. She tried not to think about his disheveled appearance and his unmade bed. She tried to keep from thinking about raking her fingernails over his smooth skin, plucking his nipples, tonguing him from throat to…

"Peyton?"

Her attention snapped from his chest up to his eyes and she felt her knees go suddenly weak, realizing the moment their eyes met just how handsome he was with stubble. Stumbling she said, "I-I have to… go. Away." Slowly, she began inching toward the door. "You have your coffee and I… I have to go."

As she tried to whiz past him, Dean's hand shot out to catch hers. "Whoa. Hey. Where's the fire? Where are you flying off to? I know you didn't come here just to rile me out of bed and then leave me alone. We have plans. What's going on?"

"I just… forgot… that there's something I have to do…," she stuttered, frowning at how schoolgirl she sounded. "…you know before we do the thing that we have to do… _together_." If she couldn't control herself during five minutes with him shirtless how was she going to survive a whole day with him at the beach?

"Let me get dressed and I'll go with you," Dean said, reaching for his drawer handle.

"NO!" she shouted quickly.

Dean looked hurt as he pulled his hand away. "Uh… okay?"

"It's just… I should probably do this… alone and you should… wake up… and we should do those separately," she insisted. "Preferably when you have a shirt on," she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Dean asked, wondering if he'd heard her right.

"Nothing," she insisted, brushing profusely as it dawned on her that he had overheard her mutterings. "I-I have to go. Bye!"

Peyton flew past him in a rush, leaving Dean to ponder what had just happened.

* * *

Haley lay with Peyton on Karen's bed--the bed that was hers for the duration of summer-- listening as her friend recanted the events of her five minute encounter with Dean.

"He was standing there with no shirt on and his pants unbuttoned and all I could think about was getting him into bed, That's not normal, Haley," Peyton told Haley, pulling a pillow over her head in a vain attempt to hide from her embarrassment.

"It couldn't have been that bad."

"Deeeuthas."

Haley yanked the pillow away exclaiming, "What?"

"But it was," Peyton whined, pulling the blankets up to her neck. "I can't do it, Haley. I thought I could, but I can't. I can't spend time with him with the pretense that we're just friends when I don't think him of a friend. He's not in the same category with Luke and the rest of the guys. He's… he's… he's _Dean_."

"Lean, mean, Dean," Haley said with a sigh, her head bolting up to meet Peyton's when she declared, "Haley!"

"What? He's gorgeous and I've noticed, okay? I'm married. Not blind."

Peyton shook her head. "What am I going to do? How am I going to face him without my mind conjuring up kinky things to do him?"

"Hey, you didn't mention kinky things?" Haley leaned forward. "What? Englighten me."

"Go. Away."

Haley straightened, all serious now. "I don't know what to tell you, Peyton. I can't honestly say that _I _haven't thought about him naked."

Peyton couldn't suppress a laugh. Giggling, she told Haley, "You don't need to be thinking about him naked. _I _don't need to be thinking about him naked, either." Peyton frowned, then looked at Haley horrified.

"What?" Haley asked, not calmed by Peyton's horrified look.

"Oh, God! You've got me thinking about him naked! I'm never leaving this room," Peyton said, pulling the pillow away from Haley to cover her face once more.

"It'll be okay." Haley was patting Peyton's arm to comfort her when Lucas walked into the room, not bothering to knock. Haley was afforded no privacy. It wasn't her house, after all. She was Luke's housemate while Karen was away for the summer and though she was borrowing Karen's bedroom, she had hoped Lucas would put his manners to use and knock before he entered a room.

Obviously his manners had left town when Karen and Brooke did.

"Hey I thought that we were all meeting at the café?" Lucas asked, glancing from Haley to Peyton with concern. Lucas pointed to the curled up ball of Peyton. "What's wrong with her?"

"Oh, she's just having a mini-freak out. She'll snap out of it sooner or later."

"About…?"

"Tell him nothing," came Peyton's muffled response from behind the pillow.

"About seeing someone half-naked."

Peyton unearthed herself from her hiding place long enough to bark at Haley, "I told you not to tell him!" before she disappeared once again.

"Who?" Lucas asked as Dean sidled up behind him.

Haley cleared her throat. "Dean. Hi. Wh-what are you doing here?"

Dean immediately realized that he'd walked in on something that he shouldn't have. "We were all meeting at the café at eight-thirty. Since you and Peyton were late, it worried us so here we are."

"Ow!" Haley yelped when Peyton tugged on her ponytail. She smacked Peyton without tearing her eyes away from Lucas and Dean who was staring at her with keen interest.

Peyton lifted the pillow away from her face just enough so that she could see Haley. "Haley?" she whispered, crooking her finger to motion Haley closer.

Haley smiled politely at the two boys standing in the room with her, then leaned forward so that she was eye level with Peyton. "What?" she snapped. "Do you know how ridiculous this looks?"

"Whatever. Shut up," Peyton cut off. "That's Dean, right?"

"Right."

"What's he doing here?"

"Well, I think he came to get you."

"Can I die now?" Peyton grumbled, not in any hurry to relive her previous humiliation and the fact that she had run from his room earlier that morning.

It was the male body, she chided herself. Since when had she ever been impervious to it? Since the body belonged to a _man_. Peyton felt her newfound resolve slowly shrink away once more.

"Uh, no. I think he'd notice."

"Okay, what's going on?" Dean asked aloud, interrupting the private conversation between the two girls.

Haley bolted upright, asking, "What do you mean?" He had his hands on his hips, emitting an air of attitude that she shouldn't find sexy but did. It was funny and quite cute. Too bad Peyton wouldn't look at him. She would probably melt into a puddle of goop at his feet. The girl had it bad.

"Peyton, come out from under that pillow," Dean commanded.

"No, I like it under here, thanks."

"You've been acting weird since you came to my room," Dean said as he crossed toward the bed, yanking the pillow away from Peyton's face. "What's your problem?"

"What's your problem?" she asked as she sat up on the bed, her ponytail whipping around her face.

"I have no problem. You have the problem."

Haley looked to Lucas for help, but he just shrugged, not knowing how he could help the situation. Then Haley yelped out the first thing that came to her mind. "Cramps!"

"What?" Dean and Peyton asked in unison, pinning her with hardened looks as if she had miraculously sprouted two heads.

"She has cramps," Haley repeated, staring at Peyton with hard eyes so that she'd get the drift.

"Right," Peyton said with a nod of her head. Peyton turned her attention back to Dean. "I have cramps. You know because I'm on my period." Dean handed her back the pillow as he muttered, "Good. Problem solved. Though, for future reference, that's something I could've done without knowing."

"Hey, you're the one that asked," Peyton reminded him.

Dean slid off the bed, moving to follow Lucas to the door. "We'll just… wait in the kitchen."

After the boys were gone, Peyton sat up in bed. "Thank you."

"Well, I don't think that the truth would've gone over well. 'Yeah, Dean… Peyton keeps thinking of you naked'," Haley joked.

"That's not funny, Haley! This is serious!"

"I'm sorry, Peyton, but it is funny. Why's this got you so freaked anyhow?"

"Because I'll probably never see him naked and I can't have these thoughts in my head without them ever coming to fruition."

"I can see how that would be a problem. I mean to see and not be able to touch…"

"You are _not _helping!"

"And now we'll spending the day with him and the guys at the beach and… and this is all _your _fault," Peyton said, pointing her finger at Haley.

"My fault? How?"

"You invited him to TRIC!"

"He was deserted in town, what was I supposed to do? Point him in the direction of the library?"

"Yes!"

"Well that would have been hospitable!" Haley snarled.

Peyton grunted, "Whatever!" as she slipped off the bed. "This is _still _your fault!"

"I didn't tell you to flirt with him, missy! You're the one that talked to him and danced with him and… and dreams of him naked!"

Peyton sucked in a breath. "That was so… so… _low_. Even for you Haley!"

"Yeah, yeah. You have all day to blame me for your relationship woes, Peyton. Come on. Get your ass up. We have to go."

"You could've asked nicely," Peyton whined, following Haley to the door.

They stopped at the door as Haley asked, "Will you please stop whining? For me, at least? We planned this day together and I don't want it to be ruined because you have a severe case of… _cramps_."

A snickering Lucas was standing outside the door when the girls exited the room a few moments later. "You two finally kissed and made up?"

"We weren't fighting," Peyton insisted.

"We were just discussing a potential situation in which… well, it's none of your business," Haley stated flatly. "You been standing out here the entire time eavesdropping?"

Lucas shook his head. "I just came to check on you."

"Can we please go and get this day over with?" Peyton begrudged.

Lucas slung his arm over her shoulders. "I know that you can put on a happy face, Peyton. Do it for me?"

"I can't. I'm already doing it _for Haley_," she said pasting a fake smile on her face. "See?" she pointed out, referring to her mock grin. "Now, let's go," she said, waving her arms over her head, instructing them to follow.

"Tell me she's not going to be like this all day long," Lucas begged Haley.

"Nah, she'll perk up later. Just hope that Dean keeps his shirt on," Haley told Lucas as she followed Peyton out the door, still trying not to laugh at her friend's expense.

* * *

Haley and Peyton sat on their beach blanket watching all six boys struggle with setting up the volleyball net. "You guys got it or do you need us girls to go and do it for you?" Peyton asked, receiving a glare from both Lucas and Dean.

"If it needs a woman's touch just let us know," Haley added and was afforded the same glare that Peyton had received moments prior. The two girls looked at each other laughing as Skills pointed out, "The net's all wrong," forcing them to take everything down _again_.

"Don't even laugh," Dean warned as Haley and Peyton fought to hold in their laughter. The moment the net was back on the sand they erupted into giggle fits.

"We better go away before they glare us to death," Haley told Peyton as she scrambled to her feet, holding out a hand to help Peyton.

"Where are you two going?" Dean called after them.

Peyton turned back toward him, yelling, "We're off to look for surfer boys. Maybe they could help you with the net."

A hint of a smile quirked his lips before he frowned and focused his attention back to the task at hand, his head zipping up now and again to focus on Peyton's retreating figure.

The two girls moved down the crowded beach, boy scouting and gossiping all along the way. When the pier came into view, Haley suggested that they turn around.

As they made their way back down the beach to where the boys were still working on the volleyball net, they slowly inched toward the water's edge to sink their feet into the water. "So, have you talked to Nathan lately?"

Haley shook her head. "I've written him letters but he hasn't written me back. Not that I expect him to."

"He's hurt, Haley, but he loves you. He just needs time. He'll come around," Peyton reassured her.

"Thanks. It means a lot that you're still behind us even after…"

"Water underneath the bridge," Peyton said, shrugging off Haley's absence over the last few months. She'd missed her friend, but knew that it was a journey that Haley had to take for herself otherwise she'd spend her life regretting not following Chris on tour. She hated that Haley had abandoned Nathan, but that was Haley's cross to bear. She was just relieved to have Haley back.

"I'm really glad we got everything sorted out, Peyton."

"Me too. I don't know how I could get through all this Dean angst without you," Peyton replied with a chuckle as a volleyball landed in the surf at her feet.

"You girls coming or what?" Lucas yelled back at them.

Peyton snatched up the ball as Haley said from beside her, "Looks like they finally figured out how to get the net up."

"Guess we're needed to keep score," Peyton laughed as they began to trudge through the sand where the guys were waiting.

Dean stood aside in his jeans, drinking a bottle of water and was caught off guard when Peyton threw the ball at him. Water splashed everywhere as he lost the grip on his water bottle.

"Oops!"

"Funny," Dean said, wiping the excess liquid off his shirt then realized the point was moot and just pulled it over his head. He watched the look that was exchanged between Haley and Peyton and wondered what that was all about.

"Can we play now?" Skills interrupted. "Fergie's hair can only take so much heat before it starts to frizz out," he said, teasing his friend in jest as Lucas tossed the ball at him to start the game.

* * *

Peyton wasn't sure how the teams had been decided. All she knew was that she and Haley were on opposite sides of the net and that she was standing behind Dean. Well… at least the view was decent, she giggled to herself, drawing Dean's attention.

He turned around to face her, furrowing his brows at her, his eyes hidden behind dark shades.

"What's so funny?" he asked as the game continued on around them.

"Nothing," she conceded as the ball flew in her direction. She readied her hands to send the ball flying back across the net in hopes of hitting Lucas, but Dean was faster than her, pushing her out of the way. The ball ricocheted across the net, it's landing unknown to her as Peyton found herself laying in the sand half-trapped beneath Dean's hard body.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Peyton nodded her head, her body reacting to his hand on her bare stomach. "It would've been much simpler to just tell me that you had it. You didn't have to push me out of the way," she said sarcastically as Dean offered his hand, helping her to her feet.

"I'm sorry," he said, helping her dust sand off her body. "I didn't mean to…," he continued to apologize without realizing that his fingers were grazing across her breasts. "Oh. God. I'm sorry," blushing profusely as if it were his first occurrence with a woman's breasts.

"It's okay. I like getting felt up with an audience watching."

Dean turned around, realizing that the game had ceased and everyone was watching the two of them. On the other side of the net, Haley's face was buried into Lucas' shirt, in an obvious attempt to try to mask her laughter. "So, uh… game? It's game, right?"


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: Supernatural/One Tree Hill  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

**Come What May: Chapter Four**

The day was slowly dwindling to a close, the action having come to an abrupt halt as the sun began to set beyond the horizon, casting the sky in brilliant colors.

Peyton and Dean sat in the sand near the water's edge, watching the sun set beyond the horizon. Behind them Haley, Lucas and Skills were huddled around the already dying bonfire.

Yards away from the shoreline, Lucas, Haley and Skills sat around a wild campfire while Peyton and Dean sat closer to the water, huddled close together as they watched the sunset. Junk and Fergie had called it a day earlier in the afternoon, following an accident while they were all jet skiing.

"I had fun today," Dean whispered, continuing to draw in the sand with the stick he'd dug out of the sand soon after they had sat down. Peyton was being unusually quiet and it was unsettling him, making him wonder if he'd said or done something wrong.

Though, now that he thought about it, he _had _unknowingly felt her up. Plus, apparently he'd spent the majority of the day ogling her. Haley had smacked him several times during the day for gawking at Peyton in her bathing suit.

What had Haley expected? He was still a guy and Peyton was… filled out in all the right places. He smiled to himself, his mind going to places he knew it shouldn't.

Peyton's voice broke through his thoughts. "I told you that you would."

"Well… if you don't count your morning craziness, I mean."

"Oh… that?" Peyton blushed remembering her small freak out earlier that morning in Dean's hotel room. God, could she have acted more like a girl?

But that was the difference between them, wasn't it? That's exactly what it boiled down to in the end. He was a _man _while she was still just a _girl_. They were on different sides of spectrum. His was darkened by years of hardships and experience whereas she was not. She'd been with one guy and her last time had been well over a year ago.

Peyton frowned as she realized it had been that long since she'd had sex. No wonder she'd reacted to Dean the way she had!

Dean's shoulders rose and fell in a careless effort. "It's okay. I understand. You had… you know… _cramps_." He stumbled over the word, wondering why Haley had felt it was imperative that he know that Peyton's freakish behavior was caused by her womanly woes.

"Pesky things they are those cramps." Were cramps going to be an epithet now for her feelings for Dean? Did she really want to associate her relationship with Dean with pain? Especially considering that she _wanted _a relationship with Dean?

Nudging her shoulder, Dean said, "You know if there's something else going on, you can talk to me about it."

"Yeah I know," she told him, glad that he was so observant of her. "I appreciate the offer and I _want _to talk to you, Dean, I do. I'd just rather… _not_."

"I understand. I'm not a girl," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"No, it's not that. It's not that at all," she regarded him honestly. "It's just that… what's going on is _you_." Dean stared at her dumbfounded and speechless. It was the first time she had vocalized her feelings to him. Now she felt unsure and… and dumb. "And before you jump back onto the age difference soapbox, I ask you to please refrain yourself."

Dean remained silent for a few moments before he conceded, "I wasn't going to say anything at all." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

So the feelings weren't one-sided. It was good to know. He wanted to put into words how he felt about her, but stopped himself from doing so. It was a delicate matter, one that he had handle with the utmost care. Her heart was fragile as was the situation he now found himself in. There was no way in hell he was going to give her hope when there was none.

Peyton moved into his arms without protest, her head dropping onto his shoulder as she said, "You know tomorrow's Monday, right?" She burrowed her feet into the sand as she melted into his warm embrace, not giving second thought to the fact that he was still sans shirt. She'd had the entire day to get used to him being in her presence, upper torso bared. Though it didn't stop the fuzzy image of him naked popping into her head at the most inconvenient of times. _Damn Haley!_

"Yeah, I know."

"You won't be in town for too much longer."

Dean remained silent, hearing the sadness etched in her voice. The same thoughts had been running through his head all afternoon. It wasn't that he wanted to leave. He had to. Because he knew that if he stayed any longer he wouldn't be able to stop himself from acting on his ever burgeoning feelings for Peyton.

"Let's just… not talk about that right now." The less he thought about leaving, the better.

He knew that he couldn't be selfish. As much as he wanted Peyton, he didn't fit into her life.

And she didn't fit into his.

She deserved someone that could be around her day after day, showering her with love and affection. She deserved someone that could open his heart and his entire life to her.

He could only deny her all of those things.

Still, he couldn't help but fight the overwhelming need to want the simple things--love, marriage, family. It's what most normal people wanted in the long run, right?

He wasn't like normal people, though. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he wanted Peyton to be the one he shared all of those things with. It was a pipe dream, he knew, but it was _his _dream. No one could take that away from him.

"We're outta here, guys." Dean and Peyton both turned up their heads where Lucas and Haley were hovering over them, Luke's arm wrapped tightly around Haley's shoulders.

"You're calling it a night? But it's still early," Peyton said, scrambling to her feet, wiping the excess sand from her backside.

"Some of us have to work tomorrow, you know?"

Dean looked at Peyton, knowing that she probably had to go into TRIC as well. "Maybe we should go, too," Dean suggested, looking to Peyton.

"We'll let you two discuss that amongst yourselves. We'll see you tomorrow," Haley said, watching the uncomfortable exchange between Dean and Peyton. Grabbing Lucas's hand, Haley led the trek back in the direction of the car.

Dean turned to Peyton as she said, "We can go back to my house. Order a pizza. Watch movies," she alluded. When he eyed her curiously, she told him, "I just don't want the day to end yet and I'd like the company."

"Okay," he admonished. "But I get to pick the movie."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," Dean declared from his perch on the floor, glaring at Peyton from the corner of his eye as the credits from their second watched movie began to roll.

"I gave you the first Clint Eastwood movie to make up for my little… _thing _this morning. You got the second one only because you started it while I was in the bathroom, but you are _not _getting a third one, buddy. That's pushing your luck all the way out the door," she told him as he hobbled on his knees back to the DVD player.

"And what else is there to watch? One of your chick flicks? I don't think so," he told her, picking yet another Eastwood classic from the shelf. Her dad had awesome taste in movies!

Peyton rolled her eyes as she crawled on her knees across the floor, plucking _Dirty Harry _out of his hands. "What, you're too manly for a chick flick?"

"Uh… in a word? Yes." Dean grabbed the movie out of her hands, but she was too fast, taking the movie back once more, this time putting it behind her back out of his reach. He whined as she brushed past him toward the shelf of DVD's, fingertips gliding along the spines.

Dean watched in horror as she swiped her copy of _The Notebook_ from the shelf. "You're not seriously gonna make me watch that, are you?" he asked, watching with horrified indignation as she made her way to the TV shelf.

"Yes I am," she told him as she ejected _Any Which Way You Can _replacing it back in it's case. "Put that away," she commanded, tossing him the movie.

"Yes, Peyton McBossalot," he muttered as she slipped the DVD into the player.

"And you're gonna watch it and not whine or complain," she told him as she moved back onto the floor. "Well, come on," she said, motioning to the spot beside her when he remained standing, staring at her.

"Okay, fine," he relented. "But I'm not gonna like it."

"Yeah, yeah. They all say that," she encouraged as Dean sat down beside her, snuggling close to her as the movie began.

Dean flung an arm around her, pulling her close against his chest as Peyton threw a blanket over them. "I'm glad we did this."

"Of course you would say that. You got to pick the movies."

"I didn't get to pick this one," he argued, gesturing to the movie as it faded onto the screen.

"Did I whine during your man movies?"

"No, you didn't," he said with a sigh. "Okay. I'll be quiet now."

As the movie progressed, Dean and Peyton stretched out on the floor on top of the blankets that littered the floor. "Put your head down!" Dean snapped when Peyton stuck her head in his eye line.

"Alright, alright!" she said sliding down his body until her head wasn't an obstruction of his view. "There. Better?"

Dean stared down at her, coughing out, "Much better. Yeah. Thanks," while trying to get his libido in check. Until now he'd never had a problem not reacting to Peyton, at least not physically. Now, however, thanks to her little maneuver, he was going to have a hard time--no pun intended--keeping things under control.

Shaking his head, Dean willed the thoughts away, concentrating instead on the movie and the fact that Noah and Allie _were _going to be together again. He was going to kill Peyton for making him watch this schmoozefest.

The movie wasn't halfway over before they had switched positions again. His arm had cramped up so he had sat upright again, Peyton taking that as an advantage to use his lap as a pillow.

Dean smoothed down Peyton's hair as she slept. As the movie drew to a close, he maneuvered her head from his lap, gently laying her flat on the floor atop the rumpled blankets.

He grabbed the remote off the table beside the sofa, flicking off the DVD player and the television. Dean was getting up to leave when he heard Peyton murmur, "No. Stay."

Sighing to himself he was getting ready to ignore her command, but decided against doing so. Instead, he stretched out beside Peyton on the floor. He grinned in the dark as she threw her leg over his, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "G'night," she whispered sleepily against his neck.

He could most definitely get used this, Dean thought as he brushed his lips across her forehead, mumbling goodnight to her in kind.

Dean stared at the ceiling for the longest time, his mind rolling through the past few days and the upcoming ones. By Wednesday he would be gone, leaving Peyton and a thousand questions in his wake.

Then, his thoughts shifted to the movie and to the journeys that Allie and Noah had to take separately.

That could be him and Peyton one day. Or so he could hope.

Thinking about what could be or what might be was too overwhelming for him to contemplate in the wee hours of morning. Closing his eyes, he welcomed sleep as well as his dreams of Peyton.

* * *

Dean sat inside the café with his stack of newspapers, leafing through them with hopes to find something that would take him on his next assignment. Unfortunately nothing out of the ordinary had happened since he'd left Florida.

He needed to relieve some tension. He needed to shoot something. He needed…

He needed to stop thinking about bedding a certain brazen teenager because cold showers were just not cutting it anymore.

Dean had realized that his feelings for Peyton were becoming an intrusion when he woke that morning in her arms. He had _never _slept with a girl without having sex so to spend his time in her company without benefiting… he knew he had it bad.

Frustrated, he closed the newspapers, chancing a look up just as Lucas walked in trailed by his obscure named friends.

"Hey Dean," Lucas said, approaching Dean's table. "You remember the guys," Lucas said, nodding his head toward the guys flanking him which just included Skills and Junk.

Dean pushed the newspapers aside as he said, "Right. Hey guys."

There were several "Yeah, hey's" in unison as the boys pulled up extra chairs at the table.

"What're you doing?" Lucas asked as he fell into the seat across from Dean, fingering the stack of papers.

"Research," Dean said as the waitress sidled up to the table to take orders from the guys.

"Research for what?" Lucas questioned as Skills placed his order and Junk flirted with the waitress to no avail.

"For my job," he said, averting his attention to the waitress, informing her as she turned to leave that he wanted a refill of coffee.

"Do you know where you're going next?"

Dean shook his head. "Not yet."

"I know someone who's gonna miss you when you leave," Lucas said, exchanging looks with Junk and Skills who only snickered.

"Yeah? Who?" Dean inquired, his eyes narrowing on a pair of girls entering the café.

Lucas nodded his head as Haley and Peyton approached the table. "Hey! You ready?"

Dean glared at Lucas as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah. Lucas and I were just… talking. But we're all done now."

Peyton glanced from one to the other skeptically. "Okay, were you two talking about me?"

"Paranoid, much?" Dean asked her.

"Just something to think about, Dean," Lucas continued as Dean rolled his eyes. Like he didn't know that Peyton was going to miss him when he left. He was going to miss her, too. Lucas was not telling him something he didn't already know.

"Come on. Let's go," he said, trying desperately to veer her away from the table, failing, as her eyes fell upon the newspapers stacked neatly in the middle of the table. "What are those for?"

"They're Dean's," Lucas said quickly, unprepared for the dual head slap from Dean and Skills.

Peyton looked at Dean as she picked up the papers, noting the red pen markings. "It's just research. For work. It's no big deal," he said, snatching them out of her hand, adding, "And none of your business."

"Ouch!" she yelped as he passed the papers off to a passing waitress. Peyton waved her finger dramatically, wailing, "You gave me a paper cut!"

"Oh, you'll live."

"But it burns!" Peyton whined.

"Gosh, you're such a baby!" Dean bemoaned as grabbed her hand, gingerly pressing his lips to the small cut on her index finger.

Peyton's eyes softened, her legs weakening beneath her as everyone looked on. Dean blew on her cut, his actions gentle and sweet. "There," he said, his deed complete. "Better?"

"Mmm hmm," she whimpered. "Thanks."

"So, hey, how was the sleep over last night?" Lucas asked interrupting their tender moment.

Dean broke eye contact with Peyton to throw as annoyed look at Lucas as Peyton spun around to look at Haley, crying out, "Haley!"

Haley shook her head, holding up her hands. "Hey, don't look at me! I didn't say anything! What you and Dean do behind locked doors is between the two of you."

"Hey!" Dean said, glaring at Haley. "We didn't _do _anything. _Guttermind_!"

"If that's your story," Haley mumbled.

"There was no sex!" Dean insisted. He turned back to Peyton. "Tell them!"

"Well…," Peyton paused, smirking.

"You've _got _to be kidding me!" Dean exclaimed as Haley stepped toward him, her voice dropping to a whisper as she said, "Now, now, Dean, we're all friends here. You could tell us if there are… you know… _problems_."

"I have no problems with anything, Haley. Believe me when I say that everything is in working order."

Peyton coughed as Haley said, "Okay. Way too much information there, Casanova."

"Okay. You've all had your fun. You got the lowdown on last night… we have to go ," he told them pointedly, setting his eyes on Peyton who was trying to mask her laughter behind her hand. His eyes on her, he begged, "Let's go please?"

* * *

"When you insisted that you were planning a night out I didn't think it included this," Peyton told Dean as they each laced their skates.

"Yeah, well… there's not much to do in this crap town and I honestly thought this would be fun."

"Dean Winchester and fun in the same sentence. Who woulda thought?" Peyton teased as she stood up, skating a few yards away from Dean.

"Hardy har har," Dean mocked. "I told the owner that I wanted to do something special for my girlfriend since I was leaving town and wouldn't known when I'd be back," he told her as he stood up, only to fall face down on the floor when he failed to remember that he was now on wheels.

"Dean!" Peyton fell onto her knees at his side, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah because kissing the floor is always so much fun."

"You were the one that wanted to do this. Remember that," she said as she helped him onto his feet. "Why are you so grumpy anyway? You've been like this since we left the café."

"Don't wanna talk about it," he told her, then skated away.

Peyton stood staring after him, not moving until he returned to her side. She fell back onto the bench, murmuring, "We came here to have fun and if you're going to be Oscar the Grouch we should just leave."

Dean let out a grunt as he sat down beside her. He opened his mouth to speak but knew that the words he had intended would only came out callous and insincere. When he tried again, his words were more heartfelt.

"I like spending time with you, Peyton. I like talking to you and being with you… I _like _you." He had arranged this night for her, wanting one of their last nights to be angst-free and fun. Their time together was getting short and he wanted the remainder of his time together to be memorable. The last thing he had expected to do was to lay his feelings on the line.

It'll certainly be memorable, he thought sourly.

His gaze dropped to his hands as he nervously scratched his palms to do anything that didn't involve looking at her while he continued to speak. "I like you more than I should, Peyton and it's a little more than unsettling." When he looked back at her, her eyes were focused on him, questioning and curious. "But this town… it's _so _small… everyone knows about us and… and I guess it's just annoying the crap out of me," he said, skirting the subject of his feelings once more.

He was using that as a crutch to keep himself distant. He wanted to act on his feelings, but knew that would only complicate things. He was leaving in two days. What good would it do to pursue her _now_?

"It's the price you pay for living in a town as small like this, Dean. Everyone knows me here. I can't help that, but if it's too much for you…"

Dean reached for her hand, taking it in his. "No. It bothers me, but only because the way they perceive this. That it's… they're making this out to be something that it isn't."

"And what is it?" Her jaw tightened, expecting what came next.

"A friendship," he said resignedly. "Peyton, it can't be any more than that. I thought that we…"

"No, it is," she said, snatching her hand out of his grasp. "And we did," she assured him. "I understand what this is, Dean. You've made it abundantly clear what this is. Can we just…," she trailed off. She looked at him, only to have him look at her like she was the only person in the world. It was the way she longed for him to look at her, the way that she knew he never would. "Forget it. Just… forget it."

Before she could flee, Dean grabbed her hand to stop her. Peyton lost her balance and the two tumbled onto the floor.

Breathing heavy, Dean stared down into Peyton's widened eyes, knowing that he should move off her. But he couldn't make himself move. "I like you… and I promised myself that I wouldn't do anything to complicate our friendship or myself…," he said breathlessly.

"I get it. You've drilled it into my head, okay?" She tried to push him off of her, but he wouldn't budge. "Would you move so that I can get up?"

"NO."

"NO?"

"I'm trying to protect you, Peyton."

"You keep saying that, Dean, but I don't get it. What are you trying to protect me from?"

"From getting hurt."

"Been there, done that."

"Exactly. I don't want to be another of those guys."

"Dean…"

The soft whisper of his name was his undoing. "Shh," he whispered, placing his index finger over her lips to still any further protests. "You'll ruin the moment."

Before his conscience could tell him that it was a mistake, Dean bent his head, pressing his lips to hers, refusing to deny himself or her any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

**Come What May: Chapter Five**

As Dean sunk into Peyton's arms, his hands touching her face, fingertips grazing across her cheeks, the voice in his head decided to speak it's mind. His conscience willed him to stop, but he ignored it. He was content right here, melting into Peyton's embrace, losing himself in her warm mouth.

When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he mustered breathlessly, "We really shouldn't be doing this."

"No, yeah," Peyton said before dragging his mouth down to meet hers once again.

He didn't rebuff her nor did he do anything to push her away. Tomorrow would be soon enough to contemplate this mistake, but now wasn't the time for it.

When they pulled apart sometime later, he fell down on his back beside her, letting out a deep breath. His body was on fire, every nerve ending electrically charged. How could she incite such strong feelings in him he'd probably never know. But he was enjoying the feeling while it lasted.

"Why'd you do it?"

Dean turned his head toward Peyton, meeting her green eyes unexpectedly. She was looking at him, gauging him for a reaction. What was he supposed to do? Did she want him to apologize for kissing her? God, he hoped not. "Kiss you, you mean?"

"Yeah… I mean, you've been spouting out the last few days how I'm too young for you and we can't start anything and then… then you do _that_." She was quick to add, "Not that I'm complaining because it was one hell of a kiss and I… I'll admit that I've _wanted _you to kiss me… it just kind of threw me off guard, you know?"

Dean sat forward, propping himself up on his elbows. "The opportunity presented itself and I don't know… I just threw caution to the wind. I had contemplated it. God knows I wanted to, but I had never _intended _on kissing you. As much as I wanted to doing that and then having to leave… I didn't want to hurt you in that way."

"I understand that, Dean, I do. So… _thank you_."

He couldn't suppress the bubble of laughter that escaped his lips. "Thank me? For what? All my intentions were blown out of the water."

"You wanted to respect me and protect me. Besides my dad Lucas has been the only guy with my best interests at heart."

Dean wanted to question that, but he remained silent as she stood up, then reached a hand out to help him to his feet.

Once they were standing, they stood facing one another for a long while, before Peyton pressed her lips to his once more. "Sorry," she whispered when she pulled away. "I had to do that."

"I'm not complaining."

She then grabbed his hand and they continued the night that had been intended just for skating.

* * *

Kirby had called Dean early Tuesday morning to let him know that the part for his car had arrived and that he hoped to have it up and running by the afternoon. 

As much as he was ready to have his car back, Dean wasn't quite ready to leave Tree Hill. In fact, now he knew more than ever that he didn't want to leave.

He hadn't intended to act on his feelings for Peyton. It had just… it had just happened. Five days of flirtation had finally culminated in one fleeting, perfect moment--one moment in which age didn't matter nor did the cloud of his imminent departure.

Last night, none of that mattered.

Now, however, it did.

Tomorrow he was leaving. No ands, ifs or buts. Lead or no lead, he was out.

Extracting his phone from the pocket of his jeans, Dean held it in his palm, staring at it as he debated calling Peyton to cancel the plans that they had made the day before. He had no idea what the day would entail, but he was seriously angsting over it.

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed his wallet and keys off the dresser and stalked toward the door to meet Peyton. It was too late to cancel on her and really he didn't want to anyway.

As he made his way toward the café, Dean thought back to the night before. He had feared that after their kiss that their night would be ruined, but it wasn't. Not in the least. In fact, it seemed to break the ice.

They'd been more playful with each other. There'd been lingering caresses and soft touches. He'd never touched a girl in a platonic way yet have it mean so much like it did with Peyton. The way he felt about her was the way he'd always wanted to feel… and it scared him.

It scared him more than any demon, ghost or vengeful spirit ever did.

They had _kissed_. Though, it didn't change anything. It didn't magically change their age or his obligations.

Their situation was still complicated and he was still leaving.

Why couldn't he keep his lips to himself?

Why? Why? _Why?_

It was a question that he'd been running through his mind since after he'd walked Peyton home from the skating arena. He knew _why _he just didn't know _how_.

How had he let things escalate? All the promises and dedications he'd made to himself over the last five days were meaningless.

Useless.

Did he have no self-control?

No. Apparently, he did not.

When he arrived at Karen's Café he noticed through the glass window that Peyton had arrived already and was sitting at the counter talking to Haley. He watched them from outside for a few minutes, wondering what they were talking about. It appeared to be a serious conversation. Their heads were bent together and he could tell even from outside that they were speaking in hushed tones.

Haley was the first to spot him as he walked through the door, touching Peyton's arm to alert her of his presence. Peyton turned in her chair to flash him a small smile as Haley swatted her with a dishtowel, whispering something in her ear. The wink directed at Peyton didn't go unnoticed, either.

What the hell was going on? Were they talking about him? Oh, God! They were!

They were… they were _gossiping_. About him and the kiss from the night before. Dean put his palm across his stomach. He was going to be sick!

Peyton turned around to face him. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, snapping his eyes up to meet hers. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You're early."

"I didn't think that was frowned upon," he said awkwardly, trying his best to keep any nervousness out of his voice.

"It's not," she answered quickly. With a side glance at Haley she said, "I'm just…." Peyton shook her head, waving it off, saying, "Nevermind. Doesn't matter."

"You're being a girl again," he reminded her as he leaned against the chair next to her.

"Yeah, sorry. I know how much you hate that," she said with a roll of her eyes as Haley looked from him to Peyton, muttering something under her breath as she walked away.

They shared a smile as he asked, "So we're having lunch here?"

Peyton shook her head. "No. We're picnicking at the lake," she told him as Haley reappeared, sliding a picnic basket onto the counter.

"Have fun!" Haley said as Peyton grabbed the basket in one hand and his hand in the other, pulling him toward the door.

Did she just say _picnicking_?

* * *

"So are we gonna talk about the elephant or what?" 

Dean had been quiet and reserved all afternoon and if she had to guess she figured he was feeling guilty about having to leave. Either that or he was regretting having kissed her the night before. And she certainly didn't need to be entertaining _those _thoughts.

They'd been avoiding talking about Dean's impending departure from Tree Hill and she felt that they needed to address it. They had spent the last few days together and maybe she was being silly, but she felt that there was something between them.

Dean was running from something she just didn't who or what it was. They'd only known each other for five days so it was awfully flippant of her to expect him to just pour open his heart. Even she wasn't that naive.

She wouldn't come out and beg him to stay because that would be too much of a girly thing to do, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't want him to go. And just because she wanted him to stay, it was a surefire sign that he was already gone.

"No," Dean said, dismissing her need to talk about the fact that he was leaving Tree Hill once his car was repaired.

Peyton pushed herself up on her elbows. "Why not?"

"Because when I leave, Peyton… that's it." God, could he sound like a bigger prick? He should've spent the entire weekend holed up in his hotel room, but did he? No. He spent all of his waking hours with Peyton and plenty non-waking hours with her, too.

His mind drifted back to Sunday night. They had vegged out in front of the TV with movies and pizza. They had wrestled on the floor and he had stayed the night per her request. It was one of the single best nights of his life. When he'd woken Monday morning in Peyton's arms he didn't care about his car or the job he had to do. All he cared about was not moving from her embrace.

Last night alone was making it difficult for him to leave. He didn't want to leave her and he hated himself for becoming so attached to her. The fact that he'd surrendered and against his better judgment, kissed her was not to go unnoticed either.

"Dean…"

Dean sat up abruptly. "I can't stay in one place, Peyton. I can't make promises to come back because I'm not sure if I can. I have no idea where I'll be in from week to week." Dean shook his head as he told her, "And giving you false hope would be… it wouldn't be fair to either one of us. I don't want you to wait on me to come back and I don't want to be the guy that swept into town one summer and left with your heart."

"Well, this isn't just about you!" She spat out angrily. "What if I wanted you to be that guy? What if I wanted to wait?"

"Believe me, you don't want me to be that guy and you shouldn't have to wait for me, either. Besides that I don't want you to." He looked over at her, his tone softening. "This turned into the very thing that I didn't want it to. You have to understand, relationships are a causality in my family and in my work, Peyton. I don't want you to become another casualty."

Him, Sam… they could've died in the fire that claimed their mother's life. They didn't, but they _could have_. Dean refused to put Peyton's life in danger. Even if it meant living a life wondering what could have been, so be it. At least she'd be alive and safe.

"I knew what this was from the beginning, Dean. I wasn't expecting anything," she tried to reassure him.

"You may not have in the beginning, but you're expecting things now otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation," he snapped.

"And that's so bad? To expect something? To want more?"

"For you? No. You're entitled to it. You've barely begun to see what the world has to offer, Peyton and you deserve to. But me? I can't expect anything. I've seen what's out there. I've loved and lost and I… I can't want more. Happily ever after is not in my future."

"You deserve to be happy just like everyone else."

He scoffed. He didn't get that luxury. As much as he wanted to be like everyone else, he wasn't. He knew things that not many other people knew and even if it killed him he would keep Peyton from knowing who he really was and what he really did. "That may be true, Peyton, but I'm _not _like everyone else. There are things about me and my life that you don't know about and you couldn't possibly understand."

"So _tell _me. _Make _me understand," she begged.

And boy, he was tempted. Dean had no doubt in his mind that Peyton would understand but he couldn't bring her into his messy life. Not now, not ever. "No," he said matter of factly. "I can't tell you, Peyton and this… whatever this is between us… it has to end here. We can't be together. I'm sorry."

Peyton had no argument. She didn't have the energy to. What could would it do her anyway? Dean had obviously made up his mind. "Me, too."

Silence fell between them as Peyton began to gather up the remnants of their picnic. When Dean tried to help her, she rebuffed his attempt, spatting, "I'm capable of doing this alone." Her words holding a double entendre, of course.

After Peyton refused his help, Dean pushed himself to his feet, moving a few feet away as he told Peyton, "I'm leaving tomorrow." Peyton slowed in her task, but didn't look at him. Really, he couldn't blame her for giving him the cold shoulder. "Kirby called this morning. My car will be ready this afternoon and I'll be leaving in the morning."

Dean watched as she stood up with the picnic basket in hand. "Guess this was our goodbye, now wasn't it?"

* * *

"So…," Haley said, hoping to pull some words out of Dean as he sat across from her, engrossed in his stack of newspapers. 

"So…," Dean replied in return, turning a page without looking up from his task. Dean knew that Haley wanted to say something, or ask something, and he wasn't going to give into her that easily. He had work to do and he didn't have time to play mind games. If she had something to say, he wished that she would just spit it out already.

"So… when are you leaving?" she finally asked.

Dean's head snapped up. Boy, she didn't waste any time, did she? He eyed her for a second, then bent his head to refocus on hunting for his next lead. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"You haven't decided yet?"

Dean looked up at her, flashing her a tight smile as he focused his attention on her and whatever matter it was that she wanted to discuss. Though, he was pretty sure they would be discussing Peyton. They always did.

"Are you going to be repeating everything I say?"

Haley shook her head. "I just figured that once your car was fixed that you'd be hightailing it outta here. You weren't too keen on being here in the first place, if you remember."

"I remember just fine, thank you. Unfortunately I'm not sure where my job is taking me next so I'll probably be sticking around a few extra days." Dean wasn't prepared for the head whacking that he received. "What the hell did you do that for?" he asked, annoyed, as he smoothed his hand over his hair.

"For the way you treated Peyton, you big lug! Why'd you go and treat her… the way you treated her if you weren't leaving?"

"To make it easier on her when I do leave." It was a hare-brained excuse, but better to have a lame excuse than no excuse at all.

"She's used to the men in her life leaving her, Dean. You wouldn't be the first and you probably won't be the last," Haley told him as she pushed her chair away from the table, rising to her feet.

Dean followed suit. "Now, what is that supposed to mean?" he inquired, following Haley into the kitchen.

Once safely in the back, Haley spun around to face him. "Just that she's used to being left behind. It might kill her in the beginning but she gets used to it so if you're gonna go, then go. Don't stick around and make it harder on her."

"I care about her, Haley, that's why I… that's why I told her that I couldn't be with her… in… _that_… way." He stumbled over his words, barely believing himself.

"Lame ass excuse, Dean. Not to mention a freaking cop out. You're _scared_."

Dean couldn't help but snicker. He was _not _scared. He battled ghosts and ghouls, sent demons back to hell, but he was scared of his feelings for a seventeen year old girl from North Carolina?

The smirk on his face quickly disappeared.

He had to give it to Haley she was intuitive and a quick study.

He was. He was scared of his feelings for Peyton.

Fuck.

When'd his life turn into an episode of _Days of Our Lives_?

He remained calm and collected as he countered nonchalantly, "And if I am?"

Haley laughed. The boy was either delusional or just plainly in denial. "You are, Dean. There is no 'what if you are'. You _are. _Now the question is what are you gonna do about it? Are you just gonna flee town and not look back or are you going to fight for something that we both know you want but are too scared to go after?" She gave him a lingering leery look before she turned and left him standing alone in the kitchen.

As Dean watched her retreating figure, he wondered if he would ever make a conscious move that would make Haley happy. A few days before she was telling him not to start something that he couldn't finish and now that he had put the kibosh on any romantic entanglements with Peyton, she still wasn't happy.

What did he have to do? Give her a kidney?

Dean stormed out of the café and was on his way back to his hotel when his phone began chiming from his pocket. Stopping on the curb, he pulled it open barking, "WHAT?"

"Is that how you always answer the phone?" came the gruff, unmistakable voice.

"Dad?"

* * *

"You weren't even gonna say goodbye?" 

Dean stalled his packing to turn around where Peyton was hovering in his doorway. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her blue jean skirt as she eyed him with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

"That was the plan," he said, continuing to roll up his clothes and stuff them into his bag. He was leaving earlier than intended, the need to bolt fresh after a phone call with his dad.

His dad was busy on a hunt in Wyoming and had passed along the news of three mysterious deaths at a bed and breakfast in Virginia. As always, John Winchester barked out his orders, only supplying Dean with the information he needed. He'd asked no questions, promising to be on the road for Virginia by dusk.

"I thought it'd be easier to just, you know… _go_."

"Well… I just wanted to see you before you left. I won't stay long, I promise. I don't want you to be under the impression that I'm expecting something from you…" When he turned to stare at her with wide eyes, having not expected her to throw his words back in his face, she continued, "… and I wanted to tell you…."

Dean stalled in his packing as he listened to her speak. He heard her sigh and realized that whatever she was going to say wasn't easy for her to vocalize.

"I just wanted to say good luck… and… and I'll miss you. I mean… I know we didn't know each other long and you probably think I'm just some random girl and you know, maybe I am… maybe I was just deluding myself into thinking that this could turn into something. But it can't. You know it. I know it. So I just came to tell to… to drive careful and that I'll …I'll be here if you ever decide to come back."

After a moment's hesitation, Dean turned around to tell her that he'd miss her too as well as a few other thoughts that had been running through his mind the last few days, but when he turned around she was already gone.

* * *

Dean threw his duffel into the trunk of his car, watching as the sun began to set. He stopped to stare at it, remembering the sunset that he and Peyton had watched together over the weekend. He had contemplated going to see her on his way out of town but knew that would only make a bad situation worse. 

He was slamming his truck shut when he spotted Lucas and Haley making their way towards him. "Hey…," Haley said, as she stepped forward to touch his arm. "We just saw Peyton at the café."

"You gonna yell at me now?" Dean was waiting on a verbal sparring, but none came. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"She's not the only one that doesn't want you to leave, you know."

Dean sighed. He hadn't realized just how close he'd gotten to everyone. "I know."

A moment later, Haley slipped from Dean's arms. "Crap, if I stay any longer I'm gonna cry and I really don't want to do that so I'm just gonna go," she said, stuffing a box from Karen's Café into his hands. "This is for you for on the road. I don't know where you're going but I'm sure it's a long trip and you'll need snacks."

"I make it a rule not to eat in my car."

"So break it. I made these so you better eat them."

"Strychnine wasn't one of your extra special ingredients, was it?"

Haley grinned, teasing, "Guess you'll have to eat them to make sure."

Dean looked at Lucas and just to break the ice said, "Oh, God, you're not gonna cry are you?"

"Hold me, Dean!" Lucas joked, choosing to shake hands with Dean rather than hug. It was, you know, the _manly _thing to do. "Drive careful, man."

"I will. Take care of her," Dean told Lucas as he slowly backed toward his car door. "And thanks for the treats, Hales."

Haley hiccupped hearing Dean use her nickname. She stood beside Lucas watching as Dean climbed into his car, poking his head out the window to wave to them as he drove away.

On his way out of town, Dean slowed to a stop outside of TRIC, debating whether or not to see Peyton one last time. The honking of horns made his decision for him, though. Pressing his foot to the gas pedal, he continued driving up the road, watching through the rear view mirror as Tree Hill disappeared behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's _The Leaver's Dance_. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Unfortunately, there's still much story to tell before I get to that much anticipated sequel and so here's the next part! Enjoy!

**Come What May: Chapter Six**

After Dean had left Tree Hill, he made the quick trip to Warsaw, investigating the mysterious deaths in Room 24 of the Twin Rivers Bed and Breakfast. The B&B had been built in the early 60's, the owner forced to close it early having run it into the ground and himself into financial ruin.

It was abandoned for years until the newest owners reopened it in the late 90's after a complete renovation.

As he investigated the mysteries of Room 24 and the murders that had plagued it in the past weeks, he soon uncovered that a young girl had been murdered, her body hidden beneath the floorboards in the room.

The girl's spirit was awakened when her locket had been recovered from the lake behind the bed and breakfast where she had last been seen alive.

Dean had to gut out the floor to find her corpse, only to have a throw down with the girl's pissed off and vengeful spirit. But after the body was dust, all seemed to be well.

The inn owners had thanked him and wanted to offer him a complimentary room for all his trouble, but he kindly thanked them, then declined their offer.

After Dean had climbed into his car, he sat in the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the stack of newspapers on his seat. He had various items circled, but none screamed paranormal to him.

He knew what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go, he just didn't know if it was fair.

To him… To her…

It was a strange situation because he'd never been in this predicament before. He had never wanted to get close to another person. He had never felt connected to another person, either. He wondered if this was how his dad had felt when he'd met his mother.

Had his dad's stomach tied in knots just thinking about his mother? Did his hands get all sweaty just thinking about touching her? Were his thoughts always on her no matter what he was doing?

"Ah, fuck it," he muttered to himself grabbed the papers, tossing them into the backseat. Quickly, he gunned the engine and backed out of his parking space.

For once he was going to do what he wanted to do. At least until he found something worth investigating.

Until then he had a girl to see.

* * *

Dusk had fallen by the time Dean arrived back in Tree Hill. It was Saturday so there was no doubt in his mind that he'd find everyone at TRIC. The town was quiet as usual as he made his way down the Main Street stretch. 

Pulling into the TRIC parking lot, he was not disappointed. It was crowded and there was a line from the door around the block with people waiting to get in.

Dean sighed to himself as he climbed out of his car, slamming the door shut behind himself. He stared at the line wrapping around the building and even though he didn't fancy standing in line, he wanted--no, needed--to see Peyton.

After over an hour of standing in line while a group of high school girls ogled him, Dean finally stepped into the crowded club, frowning once again at his pink bracelet.

His eyes roamed through the crowded, immediately spotting Haley and Lucas standing near the stage, talking to a tall, leggy blonde. He had to do a double-take when he realized it was Peyton only with a much shorter haircut.

He was about to make his way over to join them when a guy joined the three friends. Dean watched as he handed Peyton a drink and tamped down the urge to heave when Peyton smiled at him.

"That's Chance Foster."

Dean turned to the familiar voice that belonged to Skills, trailed by Junk. "Oh. Hey guys."

"Man, I thought you were gone for good," Skills told Dean, smirking in knowing why the young wayward traveler had wound up back in Tree Hill had to do with a certain blonde friend of his.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, casting a glance in Peyton's direction. "I was supposed to be, but…"

"… but you wanted to kick it with Peyton first?" Skills grinned at him and he hated that he was so transparent especially considering that he barely knew these people.

Dean expelled a deep breath. "Something like that," he said as the boys led him toward the bar. "I just couldn't turn and walk away without knowing how things would've turned out. I would've hated to have gone through the rest of my life wondering if I blew it." After ordering their drinks, a beer for him and club soda for the two young'uns, Dean pointed toward Peyton and her J. Crew boy. "So what's the deal here?"

Junk intervened. "That's Chance Foster. Big football star. He goes to school over in Summerville."

"You know him, then?"

"Unfortunately," Skills interrupted, handing Dean his beer when the waitress returned with their drinks. He handed Junk his drink, then began to explain as they walked away from the bar, "We were all friends at one point, but then Chance transferred to Summerville and us Tree Hill folk were beneath him. He never passes up the opportunity to go after one of our girls, though."

"Peyton's been on his scorecard for years," Lucas continued, joining them.

"Weren't you just…?" Dean began to question as he looked back toward Haley, seeing that she and Peyton were the only ones left with Chance.

"What _are _you doing back?" he asked as he slapped a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"What can I say?" Dean shrugged. "I like it here."

"Uh huh. You're such a bad liar, Dean," Lucas said with a chuckle. "We all know what brought you back--_who _brought you back," Lucas corrected himself.

Dean returned his attention back to Peyton and her date just as she and Haley waved goodbye to Chance, leaving him alone to stare after the retreating girls. "Well, apparently he's still striking out with Peyton," he said with a smug smile.

"Don't sound so elated, Dean," Lucas said with a laugh.

"What? I'm not elated."

"I don't think you could've said that with any more elation than you did," Junk commented.

"Your thing for Peyton comes as no surprise to any of us," Skills told Dean as they settled at a table, far out of the girls' eye line.

Dean shook his head as he slid onto the stool beside Lucas. "It doesn't matter what I feel for her… I can't pursue her."

"Why not?" Lucas, Skills and Junk asked in unison.

"Because… she deserves someone _your _age," he said, looking at each boy.

"Yeah and you're old. You can't forget that," Lucas pointed out with a shake out of his head.

"Old_er_," Dean corrected.

"Whatever. You're still old." Lucas was baiting Dean because he knew that age was the entire reason for his hesitance to pursue Peyton.

"Yeah, thanks, Lucas."

"Peyton doesn't care about your age."

"I know that. But I'm twenty-six years old. Do you know the looks I'd receive if I were to start dating a seventeen year old?"

"Age ain't nothing but a number," Skills told him.

"Thank you, Skills, but I'm well aware of that already," Dean said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that they were only trying to help, but he really wished that they wouldn't. This was his problem and he had to get through it on his own terms. Deep down he knew that this would be a lost opportunity if he didn't pursue Peyton, but his rebuttals on not pursuing a relationship with her always came back to their age difference. Yeah, she was mature for her age and didn't act at all like a typical seventeen year old... so what was the problem right? In the end she was still seventeen!

"You came back to be wit Peyton, right?"

"I came to spend more time with her, yeah," Dean said, staring at his beer bottle.

"So quit lettin' this age thing interfere with you gettin' wit Peyton."

Dean looked at Lucas. "Does he always make this much sense?"

"Skills is that annoying voice inside your head that isn't."

Skills huffed, "Can we stop talking about the women now? You two got problems with the honeys unlike me."

"Unlike you?" Lucas and Dean asked in unison, sharing a glance with one another.

"Yeah."

"That's because Skills gets no play from the honeys," Junk teased, causing Lucas and Dean to start laughing.

"Man, why ya'lls gotta front like that. Cuz that ain't cool, dawgs. That ain't cool at all."

* * *

"A lot changes in two weeks," Haley told Dean as they sat in the kitchen of the Scott house, talking over breakfast. 

Lucas had offered him to crash on the sofa instead of getting a hotel room. Dean thanked him for his hospitality and quickly accepted his offer. They had sat up, gabbing like girls while playing the Playstation as they waited for Haley to get home.

When she walked in she squealed like a normal girl and launched herself into Dean's arms, pausing in her glee to slap Lucas for not telling her that Dean was back. The three had sat up, watching movies together until Dean declared that he was ready for sleep. Lucas and Haley then retired to their respective rooms, leaving Dean to settle onto the sofa.

He was already awake that morning when Haley walked into the living room, offering to make him breakfast.

"I noticed."

Haley flashed a smile at him, crossing to the refrigerator. "You saw her hair, huh?" she asked, grabbing the half-empty carton of milk.

"Yeah," he said with a shallow breath. He'd been blown away when he'd saw her at TRIC. Of course, he hadn't been at all excited to see her in the company of another guy. But honestly what did he expect? She was an attractive girl. She was bound to secure the attention of some young punk.

Yeah, he didn't sound jealous _at all_.

"She wanted something different, something more mature," Haley said as she slid into the seat across from him with the milk in one hand and the coffee pot in the other. "I think she's trying to make an impression on this much older guy."

Dean smirked at Haley from across the table. "Stop it."

"Seriously, it wasn't about you," she insisted, then shook her head, adding, "At least I don't think it was." Dean held up his coffee cup, motioning Haley to refill it. As she did so, she told him, "You should probably know that a woman started coming around while you were gone."

"Okay," Dean replied flatly, not knowing what the emergence of some woman had to do with him.

"She said she's Peyton mom."

"What?" he asked, wondering if this was some sort of practical joke.

"You know, that was Peyton's exact reaction, too."

"How is that possible? Her mom died when she was younger. She told me so herself."

"Yeah, she did. Apparently Peyton's dad failed to mention that she was adopted."

"Oh, good God," he said, sitting back in his chair. "How is she doing? Is she taking it okay?"

"She's taking it fairly well. I won't lie and say that you coming back isn't going to help a lot."

"I don't know how much help I could possibly be. I mean, what do you say to her?"

Haley shrugged her shoulders. "We don't know what to say to her, but maybe you'll be able to find the words that we couldn't."

Dean pushed back his chair, rising to his feet. Moving to put his coffee cup in the sink, he told Haley, "I don't what help I could be to her, Haley. I'm not… I'm not the best with words."

"I don't believe that for a second," Haley said, turning in her chair to face him. "If any of us could get through to Peyton and help her through this, it's going to be you. She trusts you more than she's ever trusted anyone before."

Dean slowly spun around to face Haley. What help could he possibly be to Peyton? He could listen to her rant and rave about this new person in her life, but what could he offer past that?

"Just promise me you'll go talk to her. That's all I'm asking."

Dean nodded his head. He wanted to see Peyton regardless. She was the only one who didn't know that he'd come back. Funny how that worked out. She'd been the first one he'd wanted to see and now she was the last one. It didn't make her any less important, though.

"I'll go talk to her," Dean promised, crossing into the living room to grab his wallet and his keys.

"So, just out of curiosity…," Haley began as she followed Dean into the living room. "Why did you come back?"

Dean stared blankly at her as he stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. "I had no where else to go."

"Ehh! Wrong answer. Try again."

For some reason Haley was able to look right through him. He really hated her for that. "You want me to tell you I came back for Peyton, don't you?"

"Only if she _is _why you came back."

"Then I'm not gonna tell you if she is or not," he said with a smirk, stalking past her toward the door. "See you later, Hales," he called over his shoulder as he let himself out.

* * *

Peyton was sitting in her room, staring at a blank page in her sketchbook. She couldn't draw anything and it was pissing her off. Since Dean had left she had wanted to put her feelings into words--into her art--but nothing had come of it. She was artfully sound, something she hardly ever was. 

She had thought about him non-stop since he'd been gone. Her thoughts had been divided between him and Ellie, the woman claiming to be her mother. She couldn't very well deny claim to this woman, now could she? Not when her dad had confirmed Ellie's claims.

She'd been adopted. Her dad wasn't her dad and her mom hadn't been her mom. So, who exactly was she?

"You know, last I check you weren't supposed to just stare at it…"

Peyton spun around quickly, a grin lifting the corners of her lips as she set her eyes on Dean. "What are you doing here?" she asked, slipping out of her chair and to her feet.

Dean pushed away from the doorway, wringing his hands uneasily. "I have some time to kill between jobs and… I wanted to spend it here… _with you_."

"Here?" she echoed. "With me?"

"That's what I just said, yeah."

"But I thought…"

Dean shrugged it off. "Nevermind what I said before I left."

Peyton wasn't that forgetful, though. "Why? What changed between then and now?"

Dean made his way around her room, taking in the colorful walls, the numerous sketches. One in particular caught his attention. _People always leave_. He stood staring at it for the longest time, barely acknowledging when Peyton stepped beside him.

"I have a lot of time to think when I drive," he told over his shoulder without turning around to face her. "I was heading for my job and I couldn't stop thinking about you." He turned toward her then as he continued to move about her room. "When I go on jobs I usually worm in a one night stand or two… for distraction, for company. They never lead anywhere and I never want them to, but with you…," he trailed off with a shake of his head. Facing her once more, he told her, "…with you I wanted it to lead somewhere."

"I thought you said that we couldn't be anything."

"Just because this can't be anything in the larger sense doesn't mean it can't be anything _now_." He wanted to smack himself after the words had escaped his mouth. He knew that Peyton was going to perceive them differently than he'd intended them.

Peyton's eyes widened at what he was suggesting. "So you want me to be, what? A summer fling? You have _got _to be joking!" she said outraged.

"I can't guarantee how long I'll be around, Peyton," he told her as she turned her back to him. Letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, he said, "And promising you that I will be or that I'll visit… it would only be lies and I don't want to lie to you." He stumbled over his last words. He was already lying to her, but those lies were necessary. They would keep her safe and out of harm's way.

But was keeping the truth from her for her own good or for his? Dean quickly dismissed the thought. That was something he had no time to ponder right now.

"I won't agree to be your little play toy for the duration of the summer, Dean. I _won't_."

"What makes you think that I want you to be, Peyton?" he asked, his voice rising above it's usual calm tone. "Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you believe that I would take advantage of you that way?"

Peyton stared blankly at him, taken aback by his coarse tone. "No," she said, averting her gaze away from him.

He simply wanted a chance to be with her. But he wanted her to be aware of the limitations of their relationship. There was no chance of a happily ever after. At least not until the crusade was finished. He couldn't think of a future until the thing that killed his mother was dead. But would that nightmare ever be over? Would the crusade end with the destruction of that demon? Or would there be more to follow in it's wake?

Pushing that to the far recesses of his mind, Dean told her, "I can't commit to you in the way that you deserve and the way that I would _like _to. We both want the same thing, but I can't give it. Not now anyway."

"Then, why are we having this conversation? Why'd you come back at all?"

"I came back for _you_. I came back to see where this would lead… _if _it would lead anywhere. I could barely concentrate on my damn job because I kept thinking about _you_," he said in a huff.

Peyton smiled at that. Falling onto her bed, she sighed, "I'm sorry. There's just all this… _stuff _going on and now you're back and…," she trailed off, looking up at him. "I had come to the conclusion that you weren't coming back."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't supposed to." Dean leaned back against Peyton's dresser as she got more comfortable on her bed. "When I left, I said that was going to be it. I wasn't going to look back or think twice. I mean, yeah, I liked you and Haley and Lucas. You were all hospitable to me and then there was you…," he explained with a grunt. "I've been on my own for a long time, Peyton. It's not easy for me to let people in."

"I understand that." She understood that more than he knew.

He grinned at her. "Yeah, I knew you would." Looking down to look at his watch, he said, "I should probably go."

"But you just got here?"

"I promised Haley I'd come and check up on you and now that I have I have to go and find a hotel or something. I bunked with Haley and Lucas last night and Luke's a fucking liar. That sofa is not comfortable at all."

"I'm glad that you came back, Dean," Peyton told him as he made his way toward the door.

"Are you?"

Peyton nodded her head. "Of course I am," she insisted.

" Peyton, I heard about…"

"Yeah. Just… let's not, okay? I don't want to talk about that now, if you don't mind."

"Okay," he said, nodding his understanding. "I'll see you later."

Peyton climbed off her bed as he exited the room. She was moving back to her desk, when Dean reappeared at her door, saying, "Oh, I almost forgot… I like your hair."

"Yeah?" she asked, touching her shortened strands.

"Yeah. See ya later, Peyton." And with a parting smile, he made his leave, leaving Peyton grinning to herself behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song. I don't. I'm just borrowing.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.  
Warnings: M/M kissage. It's minimal but it's there ;)

**Come What May: Chapter Seven**

Dean did not jog. He didn't workout at all. Hell, ghost hunting was plenty workout for him. So why the hell had he agreed to go jogging with Lucas? _Why? _He was huffing and heaving beside Lucas who casually glanced his way, smirking. The jackass. He was enjoying this torment. Why'd he have to befriend an athlete?

"So, how'd things go with Peyton the other day?"

"Good, I guess," he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders as they rounded the corner of Barney's Hardware, the main stretch coming into view. The café was just up the block. _Thank God!_

"Good, you _guess_?" Lucas questioned, slowing to a stop.

"She didn't want to talk about the thing with her mom so I didn't press." Dean leaned against the wall as Lucas stared at him.

"Well, what did you guys talk about?" he asked with a grin. "You were there an awfully long time."

"Dude, don't even go there. It wasn't like that," Dean said, wiping his forearm across his sweat soaked forehead. "We just… we talking about our non-relationship," Dean answered with an eye roll.

He'd never had someone to spill all his relationship problems to, but Lucas was like a stand-in brother. They had gotten close over his past few days back in Tree Hill. Peyton had been busy dividing her time between working at TRIC and spending her time with Ellie. It wasn't that he minded spending time with Lucas… it's just he wasn't as pretty to look at.

"What about it?"

"Lucas, man, when did you and Haley switch personalities?"

Lucas laughed. "I'm just curious."

"Yeah, that's Haley's excuse, too."

"You came back for Peyton. You can't blame us for being interested in the developments or in your case, the lack thereof."

"Hey, hey!" Dean interrupted, pointing his finger at Lucas. "I did not come back for Peyton." Lucas gave him a skeptical look. Dean relented, "Okay, I didn't come back _solely _for Peyton."

"Dean…?"

"Fine. Okay. _Fine_. So I came back for Peyton… well with the sole intent on seeing if a relationship was possible. There. Happy?"

Lucas nodded his head. "Yes, but I'm not going to do the Chicken Dance. Forget it."

"I didn't mean that you had to be _that _happy!" Dean snickered.

"Look, Dean, Peyton's one of a kind. If you're fortunate to have her look your way, you shouldn't screw it up," Lucas said, speaking of past experience. He'd had his chance with Peyton, but he'd blown it. They were friends now. That was enough. "There's so many guys that have come in and out of her life that haven't been worthy. Don't be another of those guys."

Dean detected some undertones there, but refused to question them. If Lucas and Peyton had a past, they would tell him. He doubted he had anything to worry about, though. Lucas knew how he felt about Peyton. He wouldn't go behind him and try to steal her away. Then again, how well did he know Lucas, anyway?

Lucas slapped Dean's arm. "Come on. We're almost to the café and the girls are waiting for us."

"Just for the record, I'm not doing this tomorrow," Dean said as he pushed himself away from the wall and began jogging behind Lucas, mumbling to himself all the way to the café.

---

"Come on. Get up," Peyton ordered, nudging Dean softly with her boot. The sofa was three feet behind him so she was perturbed as to why was he sprawled out in the middle of the floor.

"What?" he snapped, slowly coming out of his sleepy haze, his eyes searching around before lifting to land on Peyton. He took in the mini-skirt and the halter top and sucked in a breath. Did they have a date that he wasn't aware of? Or did _she _have a date that _he _wasn't aware of? He groaned as the thoughts manifested in his brain. Must his brain run away from him and conjure up the worst case scenario?

"We're going to a party," she announced, kicking him this time. _Hard_. "Up!"

A party. Oh.

Dean shook his head. "_You're_ going to a party. I'm sleeping here," he mumbled, turning back over.

"Come on, Dean," Peyton begged. "Lucas and Haley are already there and they're waiting on the two of us."

Dean poked his head up to tell her, "Well, I certainly didn't tell them that I was going to a party so why did you?" It wasn't that he didn't want to go with her because he did. He had been back in town a week and he'd barely spent any time with her. He was annoyed at her for interrupting his very vivid dream in which he was a schoolboy and she was his schoolmarm and he'd been a very naughty boy…

He winced the moment her boot caught him in the side again. "Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?"

Dean rubbed his side as he said, "No! But I feel your boot every time you kick me!"

"Oh! Sorry," Peyton replied sheepishly, a blush creeping up her neck. "Anyway, as I was saying, Luke and Haley are each other's dates so you have to be mine. Unless you'd rather me take someone else. Chance Foster said I could just call him whenever I needed him." She let her words hang in the air, hoping that he'd catch the hint.

Dean flipped over onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling. There went his nap! He stared at the cracked ceiling tiles as he told Peyton, "I'll need to change first."

"Then get off your lazy ass and mosey into the bathroom. Who takes a nap at seven o'clock at night anyway?"

Dean scrambled to his feet, locking her in a heated gaze. "Hey, you weren't up at the crack of dawn working out with Lucas, okay?"

Peyton couldn't stifle a laugh. "You agreed to accompany Lucas on his morning workout?" she asked as Dean headed down the hallway for the bathroom.

"I assumed that his workout started later in the morning," he told her as he pulled off his shirt. "He didn't warn me that he worked out with the chickens." He tossed her the discarded scrap of clothing, smirking at her surprised expression. "Hold that for me, will ya?"

"Why? You plan on wearing this old smelly thing?" she asked as he disappeared into the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself but did not secure it. A small crack remained allowing her to see Dean standing in front of the sink.

The lingering smell of his cologne clung to his discarded shirt and soon reached Peyton's nostrils. She lifted it to her nose, intoxicated by the overwhelming scent of Dean.

She heard the water turn on in the bathroom and wondered if he was taking a shower. The minute the thoughts of Dean and water merged, her mind went to a bad place and she couldn't escape the flood of images that filled her brain. Great! Now she was going to be stuck thinking of Dean naked in a steamy shower for the remainder of the night. "Way to go, Peyton," she mumbled to herself.

"Huh?" Dean eased open the door, leaning against the doorjamb as he continued the task of brushing his teeth.

"What?"

"You were talking to me?"

Peyton spat out a quick, "No," her gaze shifting from him to the T-shirt clutched tightly against her chest. What was she planning to do? Bring it home with her as a keepsake? Quickly, she threw it back at him, watching as he tossed it over his shoulder where it landed flawlessly into the hamper behind him.

"Nice."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

"No!" Then, "Is it working?" Peyton slowly shook her head, laughing when Dean said, "Damn!"

Rolling her eyes, she told commanded, "Go and finish beautifying yourself so we can get to the party before everyone drinks all the alcohol!"

---

"So a house party, huh?" Dean asked, throwing his car into park

"Yes. Are you not familiar with the concept?" she snarked, pushing open the door as she told him, "You know, teenage rite of passage. No chaperones. Odious amounts of alcohol. Possible promiscuous sex."

"Really now?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised with mock interest as they slammed their doors shut at the exact same time. He didn't believe for a second that Peyton had brought him here with the intention of plying him with alcohol in order to have her way with him. Not that he would be one to complain if that was her ulterior motive.

"That was _not _an invitation."

_Damn!_ "Pity. I was just getting in the party mood," he teased as they made their way up the drive to the main house. "So who's party is this?" The question hung in the air as the door was pulled open.

Peyton's eyes shot to the door as Bevin staggered in the doorway, liquid spilling from the plastic cup she held in her hand. "PEYTON!" Bevin declared rather loudly as she stepped forward, throwing her free arm around Peyton's neck. "I'm so glad that you came." Stepping back, she told Peyton, "I am… like… a lot drunk."

"I can tell. Did you leave anything left for everyone else to drink?" Peyton asked with a giggle as the party continued inside.

Bevin's eyes clouded as a hiccup escaped her mouth. "I think so. You know, this is all Tim's fault. We were playing a game… and he kept refilling my glass and now I'm all… and my head's spinning… and everything's SO LOUD." Peyton side glanced at Dean whose fingers were pressed to his ears.

"So. Very. Loud," Dean whined as Peyton shot him a glare.

"Come on. Let's go inside," Peyton said, leading Bevin into the house, Dean following behind.

"Who's the boy?" Bevin whispered not so quietly to Peyton.

"That's my friend Dean."

Bevin looked back at Dean, winking at him. "Dean pretty," she told Peyton.

"Yes. Dean very pretty," Peyton told her friend, leading her to a chair. "You stay there and I'll get you some water. Don't take any more drinks from Tim."

"'kay," Bevin said without argument

Peyton forcefully grabbed Dean's arm, placing him beside Bevin's chair. "Watch her," she ordered.

"Hey, I didn't come to babysit your drunk friends."

"No, you came as my date. Please?"

Dean sighed, then huffed, "Fine. Be a doll and bring me back a drink. I'll need it to deal with all these… _high schoolers_."

"Hey! I'm a high schooler."

"Yeah, but you don't count."

All of a sudden Bevin shot to her feet. "While you two continue to flirt, I'm gonna go throw up." With a hand to her mouth, Bevin ran off for the bathroom. After she was gone, Dean told Peyton, "I don't know about you, but I was _not _flirting."

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "You were, too. Don't even try to deny it." Peyton pointed to a swinging door behind her. "Kitchen's that way. Go get your own drink. I'm going to go check on Bevin."

"But…!"

"GO!"

Dean smirked as he watched her move across the room. As she knocked on the bathroom door that Bevin had disappeared behind, she smiled at him and he had to admit to himself that being in a house full of teenagers might not be so bad after all. Especially considering that he was more or less dating one of them.

And on that thought, Dean muttered to himself, "I need a drink," and began his trek to the kitchen.

---

Dean was scrunched up on the end of the rather large and comfortable sofa next to him that they call Dim.

It didn't take him long to realize why everyone called him Dim. The boy was just… _dumb_. Dean still had yet to decipher whether it was just a façade or not but he didn't think the boy had that many brain cells to pull off that kind of feat.

Across the room Peyton and Haley were dancing together, hips swaying, arms stretched high above their heads, moving in rhythm to the song blasting out of the speaker system. He tried not to follow the movements of Peyton's body, but he couldn't stop himself. He was fixated on her. But when she looked over at him, he diverted his attention to the artwork on the wall or the ceiling tiles, neither of which compared to watching Peyton.

Dean turned his attention to Tim who was watching the looks he and Peyton kept exchanging. He cleared his throat, smiling politely at Tim, hoping to avoid an awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky.

"So you and Peyton, huh?" Dim asked rather giddily, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he nudged Dean's arm.

Dean had to tamp down the urge not to knock Tim upside the head for even implying that he and Peyton were more than they happened to be. "Uh… no. We're just friends." God, he was getting annoyed with himself for continuing to insist that they were merely friends.

They weren't yet they were… it was a whole complicated thing that he refused to put too much thought into. Especially now.

"Yeah, right, man," Tim said, still giggling. "You know, me and Peyton had a thing once," Tim claimed, all serious in a valiant effort to lie his pants off.

"Oh, really?" Dean asked, sipping on his beer, not believing a word of this tale that Tim was beginning to tell.

Tim nodded as he put his index finger over his lips. "We keep that on the down low. Nathan's my home boy and he wouldn't appreciate knowing that."

Ah, Nathan. The one ex-boyfriend of Peyton's that he did know about. The others, though… they were a complete mystery. He would get her to tell him which Tree Hill boys were walking around with broken hearts. He just hoped that one of those hearts didn't belong to Lucas.

"That's very considerate of you, Tim."

All of a sudden a wave a confusion washed across Tim's face. "But you know, I knew Peyton was freakay but I didn't know she liked 'em so old. Maybe that's why she never kicked it with me," he said with a frown.

Oh, that he could not laugh. "You must've ruined her for the younger boys, Tim," Dean said, slapping Tim's arm as he rose to his feet. Dean quickly excused himself from his less than stellar conversation with Tim. He shook his head at the rousing game of Shit Faced being played out on the floor a few feet away as he moved toward the kitchen where he'd seen Peyton and Haley disappear moments ago.

In the kitchen Dean found Peyton and Haley sitting on the countertop, passing a bottle of Vodka back and forth between themselves. In front of them stood Lucas and Junk and at their feet sat Fergie and Skills, regaling everyone around them with their horrible, _horrible _singing voices.

They sang in unison: "… _my loneliness is killing me_ _and I must confess I still believe… (still believe)… if I'm not with you… I lose my mine… gimme a sign… hit me baby one more time!"_

Lucas and Junk clapped and whistled as Haley cried out, "Hey, you messed up the lyric! It's _mind_, you freaks. Not _mine_."

"Oh, whatevah," Skills slurred.

"Yeah!" Fergie chimed in. "Who err you? The lyric police?"

Dean looked from one drunken teenager to the next, shaking his head. He was feeling his age now, noting that he was the oldest person in the room. Why had he let Peyton talk him into coming again? Oh, right. _She _hadn't done much talking. Her miniskirt had done all her talking for her. And boy what words it whispered to him.

He felt the need to smack himself upside the head to rid his brain of his less than innocent thoughts.

He ambled over to where Peyton was sitting, surprised when she put her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. Her legs soon followed, wrapping around his torso so that he was trapped in place. Not that it wasn't a bad place to be.

"You okay?" he asked concerned when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm just a little drunk," she whispered in his ear.

"So I noticed." Great. His date was a lush. His brain stalled for a second on date, but he didn't have time right now to debate that slipup with his conscience.

"We should play a game!" Haley said excitedly from beside Peyton.

"No, we really shouldn't," Dean begged with a shake of his head even as Peyton asked him to help her down from the counter.

Once Peyton was on her feet beside him, Haley grabbed her hand and led her back into the living room.

Dean stood in the kitchen with the guys for a few moments longer, groaning when he heard Haley exclaim, "SPIN THE BOTTLE!"

---

Perhaps he'd made a wrong move when he'd followed Lucas and Junk into the living room. The second Haley laid eyes on him, she pulled him down beside her. The circle consisted of nearly twelve people, seven of which Dean did not know.

Oh, this was going to be loads and _loads _of fun!

Dean settled in between Haley and Peyton, Lucas and Junk on the other sides of him. "This is so reminiscent of fourth grade," he heard Lucas mutter from beside him.

If his dad and Sam could see him now…

As they game got underway, Dean kept his focus on Peyton. He knew she had drank a lot and if there was one thing he remembered about house parties, it was that with the games and pressure from peers that sometimes you consumed more than you thought. And hangovers, even at twenty-six, were not much fun.

He wasn't sure how much time has passed from when he'd sat down until the bottle had landed on him. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, staring at Lucas wide-eyed.

Haley giggled from beside him. "Go on," she nudged him. "Kiss the boy."

Dean leaned toward Lucas, whispering, "If your tongue comes anywhere near my mouth we _will _throw down!"

After a quick peck, Dean and Lucas both took a long swig from their beers as Peyton and Haley whined from beside them that their lip lock was so disappointing and that they wanted a do over. "That was a one-time show, ladies. You're not getting another one," Dean said as he spun the bottle.

As it slowed to a stop, pointed to Peyton, he gulped. They hadn't kissed since he'd been back and he certainly hadn't envisioned it being in a room full of strangers.

Dean leaned over Haley toward Peyton as she whispered, "You totally planned that."

"I did not," he insisted, even as he and Peyton smiled at each other, inching closer.

However, the moment was short-lived when as he was about to kiss her, Peyton began to gag. She then bolted to her feet and ran for the bathroom.

"Gee, Dean, I didn't think you were _that _bad of a kisser," Haley teased, winking at him before she left the circle to go check on Peyton.

Dean watched Haley's retreating figure, then turned his attention to the snickering Lucas and Junk, warning, "If you mutter a single fucking word, I'm gonna throw you both into that wall."

---

"My head hurts, Dean," Peyton whined as he pulled her out of the car, helping her to her feet.

"The aspirin's just wearing off. We're almost to the house and you can have some more," he calmed her as they made their way up the sidewalk that led to her house.

"Why'd I drink so much?" she mumbled. "Why'd you let me drink so much?"

"I didn't force those drinks down your throat."

"You were my date. You weren't supposed to let me get plastered," she told him as they climbed the steps to the porch. "The key's in my purse," she told him, thrusting her bag into his chest, sliding down the doorframe to plop onto the cold porch.

Dean dug her keys out of her purse and was in the process of pushing the key into the lock when she said, "And you weren't supposed to dance with Emma."

"You were dancing with Tim."

"It was _Tim_! No one should be jealous of Tim!"

"And besides, I was not dancing with Emma. _She _was dancing with _me_," Dean corrected Peyton as he pushed open the door.

Dean crouched down to Peyton's eye level as she said, "She's a slut, you know. But maybe you like sluts."

"You're drunk and not making any sense whatsoever."

"I make sense," she huffed as Dean pulled her into his arms to carry her into the house.

"Yeah, just not a lot of it."

"Hey… you're carrying me."

"Well, aren't you a sharp one," he quipped, stepping into the house, kicking the door closed behind himself.

Dean was proud of himself for making the walk upstairs without fail or falling down. Reaching Peyton's room, he laid her down on the bed, collapsing beside her to take off her boots. When he had finished that task, he looked up to find her smirking at him. "What's so funny? Did I take them off wrong or something?"

She leaned forward, asking in a seductive tone, "You gonna take off the rest of my clothes, too?"

He wondered where she'd summoned the courage to flirt with him since she'd barely had enough energy to breathe since they'd left the party. After she'd ran off for the bathroom, she'd spent a good half-hour retching.

Bevin had given her some aspirin and it'd helped her for a little while. Long enough for her to dance with Tim and annoy the hell out of him. Not to sound like an immature twit, it wasn't that she was dancing with Tim. It was how. He'd half expected her to throw Tim down on the floor and go at it right there.

When Emma sidled up to him and began dancing in front of him, he was still seething so he hadn't put up a fight. It was only when Peyton passed out from dizziness that his anger dissipated somewhat.

Dean shook his head, quickly pulling the blankets up to throw over her. "Go to sleep," he commanded.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Peyton questioned, sitting up as Dean ventured out into the hallway.

Sighing, Dean spun around, bracing his arms on either sides of the doorframe. "I'm going to the bathroom to find you some aspirin and a glass of water."

"And then…?"

"Then… I don't know."

"Would you stay? Tonight?"

"Peyton, I'm sure that's a good idea."

"Please?" she begged.

"Yeah. Okay," he caved, unable to say no to her, especially in her current state. Though, he was pretty sure what conclusions Lucas and Haley would jump to as they had done before.

"Really?"

"Yes. Just… lie down while I go get your aspirin."

Dean watched as Peyton laid back against her pillows, then moved across the hall to the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawers before opening the medicine cabinet, finally locating a near empty bottle of Tylenol.

It was as he was shutting the cabinet that a small, gold bottle caught his eye. "Oh, Peyton…," he sighed, staring at the small bottle.

He shut the cabinet door in a vain attempt to ignore the presence of the cocaine vial. As he fixed Peyton's glass of water he hoped against hope that it wasn't hers. Turning off the faucet, he grabbed the cup of water and the bottle of Tylenol to make his way back across the hallway to Peyton's room.

He found that Peyton was already asleep by the time he got there. He set the aspirin and water on her nightstand then flicked off the light and left the room.

Dean made sure that the downstairs lights were all turned off and that the door was locked before he retired back to Peyton's room. He stood in the doorway watching her sleep for the longest time before he finally pulled up a chair beside her, joining her in slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.  
Author's Notes (2): Only two more chapters after this, folks and then WE'RE DONE. This is the unbeta'ed copy because Gina decided to leave me to go on vacation in Jamaica. The whore. So, this is not the final draft. Any mistakes are mine, so don't laugh, it's freaking LATE.

**Come What May: Chapter Eight**

The sun streaming in through the window blinds, pulled Peyton out of her peaceful slumber. She groaned against the intrusion, her mouth dry and tasting bitter. Her eyes zoned in on her surroundings, not sure how she'd gone from the party at Bevin's to being in her bed.

Spying a glass of water at her bedside, she reached for it and was gulping down the contents when she saw that Dean was fast asleep in a chair at the foot of her bed.

Peyton stared at him for a few moments, noting that his bare feet were poking out from beneath the small blanket covering his long form. She took advantage of Dean's slumber to drink him in, her hungry eyes feasting along his body.

She had looked at Dean, but she had never _really _looked at him. He was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. He looked angelic when he slept - peaceful, much different from the sarcastic tiger that he was during his waking hours.

Her eyes continued on their quest, drawn to the stubble lining his jaw, signaling that he was in need of a shave. The stubble made him look more… _reckless_. Or was the word that she was looking for dangerous? One thing was for sure, it did make him look sexier. As if he honestly needed to be any more sexy than he already was.

Boy, if Dean could hear her thoughts now. His head would explode from the stroking of his ginormous ego.

Her gaze traveled down his body, over his muscular arms and toned legs, but any contemplation over those features were interrupted by the sound of her ringing phone. The shrill noise pierced the silence, stirring Dean from his stupor. She swiped the phone off the table, ignoring her caller. She'd talk to Haley later.

She returned her attention to Dean who was stretching and yawning. "Morning," she greeted him with as much energy and vigor that she could muster. Her head was still spinning and she was vaguely aware of the sour smell wafting to her nostrils from her pillow.

"How long have you been awake?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands over his face in attempt to rid himself of the remaining vestiges of sleep.

"Not long," she said with a shake of her head. "So, um… how drunk was I?"

"Pretty far gone," Dean said, remembering how she'd pretty much begged him to take her clothes off. If he was any less of a gentleman he probably would've taken her up on her offer - drunk or not.

Peyton hung her head, dropping it into her hands. "Did I do or say anything stupid or slutty?"

"Nah."

The smirk said otherwise, however. "You're lying, but thank you."

"You didn't do anything horrible. Though, there was a moment with you and Tim last night."

Peyton's hand flew to her mouth to avoid throwing up. "I didn't kiss him, did I?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Good thing you passed out before that could happen."

"Phew," she said breathing a sigh of relief. Looking back at Dean, she said, "I'm sorry about last night."

"It's okay."

Peyton wasn't that easily swayed. "No, Dean, it's not. The whole point of last night was to go out and fun. You taking care of drunken old me was not fun." She wrinkled her nose. "Neither was the puking."

"Peyton, honestly I did not mind."

"Still feel hesitant to get into a relationship with someone so young?" she asked, dropping her gaze to her blanket to toy with a loose thread on her comforter.

"Peyton…," Dean began to argue as he tossed his blanket aside. Moving toward the bed, he fell down beside Peyton, lifting her chin so that they were eye-to-eye. "Last night didn't change the way I looked at you or the way I feel about you. You're in high school. You're entitled to let loose and have fun. Considering how sucky your life has been lately, I understand why you got a little carefree. I'm just glad that I was there to take care of you."

"So am I." She leaned forward, linking her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

Dean hugged her back muttering, "You're welcome." As they pulled apart he had the strong inclination to kiss her to make up for their failed spin the bottle attempt the night before. But as they tried to kiss again, they were interrupted this time by the ringing of the downstairs doorbell.

"Guess we're just not meant to do this," he complained, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"We'll find the right time. Unfortunately we might have to kill all of my friends to do that," she said, slipping out of the bed.

Peyton quickly descended the stairs as whoever was at the door rang the doorbell again. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered, stepping off the stairs.

When she opened the door, Haley flew inside, yelling, "I called you. Why didn't you answer the phone?"

"I was still asleep. _And _hung over."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. Get dressed. We have to go."

"Why?"

"A pipe burst inside TRIC," Haley blurted out, spotting Dean hovering on the stairs. "You, too, Lover boy. Get your pants and let's go." As Haley turned to grab the door handle, she spun back around to ask, "Where _are _your pants?" Haley looked from Peyton to Dean, her eyes widening as her mind leapt to the darkest place. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," Peyton said, pushing Haley toward the door. "You go to TRIC and we'll meet you there."

"But…," Haley argued as she was pushed outside and the door was shut in her face. "Uh, okay. Rude!" she barked at the door.

---

Dean put down his mop, moving over to where Peyton was struggling with keeping herself erect. "Peyton, why don't you go sit down. You look like you're about to topple over any second."

"No, I can do this," she insisted, continuing to mop up the water from the pipe burst. They had succeeded in mopping up all the water from the floor, but unfortunately a repairman would not be there to repair the pipe until Thursday so TRIC would be out of business for a few days. Not that she minded. She could use a few days of rest.

"Peyton, you look like you're ready to pass out. Go sit," he commanded.

Peyton headed toward a table as Junk, Fergie, Skills and… _Mouth _walked through the door. Energy surged into her as she laid eyes on Mouth who had disappeared shortly after the beginning of summer following his breakup with Erica Marsh. The whore. Of all people to dump, why'd it have to be _Mouth_?

"Mouth! You're back!" she said giddily, hugging him in welcome as Dean eyed them curiously from across the room. They held each other's gazes, even as she stepped back, watching him closely as he slowly began to make his way toward their group.

"I was up in New Hampshire visiting my grandparents."

"That's what Lucas told us. He also said that you and Erica broke up. I'm sorry." She had wanted to kick Erica Marsh's scrawny little ass after she'd heard of the breakup and how devastated Mouth had been. But if Erica Marsh couldn't see how special Mouth was, then she definitely did not deserve him.

Mouth shrugged nonchalantly. "I was no competition for the meat and muscle of the football team," he said with a sigh as Dean joined them.

Dean looked at Peyton awaiting an introduction, but Skills beat her to it. "Dean, man, this is Mouth. Mouth this is Peyton's dude, Dean."

"Skills!" Peyton shrieked, reddening at Skills' affirmation that Dean was _her _dude.

"What? It ain't like I was lying."

Mouth laughed as the exchange between Skills and Peyton as he and Dean shook his hands. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"You, too, Mouth." As Dean leaned against his mop he said, "Mouth. That's a peculiar name." The head smack was both surprising and unwarranted. "What the hell did you do that for?" he snapped at Peyton, smoothing out any hairs that had strayed from their positions.

"The real name's Marvin."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I can see why people call you Mouth." Even though Mouth laughed in agreement, Peyton smacked him again. "If you smack me again I'm gonna beat you with this mop!" Dean threatened Peyton, oblivious to the confused looks exchanged between Mouth, Junk, Skills and Fergie.

Laughter rang out amongst the friends as they watched the playful flirtation between Dean and Peyton, all of them knowing that it was just a matter of time before they gave into their obvious attraction.

---

"Why do you insist on staying here?" Peyton asked as she stepped into the living room to find Dean sitting on her sofa, emerged in channel surfing. He'd spent the last two days at her house, most of his time spent in front of the television. Not that she was complaining because she enjoyed his company. Even if she sat beside him, sketching as he watched whatever tickled his fancy.

"You've got better channels than Lucas does," Dean said, continuing to flip through the channels, not bothering to look up at Peyton who was standing just to the side of him, waiting for him to turn his head toward her.

She kicked his leg softly to get his attention. "What'd I tell you about kicking. Or hitting," he said, turning his head merely to glare at her before reverting his attention to the tube. At least the television wasn't on ESPN 24/7 as it had been while she'd dated Nathan.

Her physical abuse had been a sore subject since the day before at TRIC. She didn't mean to smack him. It was just a reflex. He was being an assbag so her first impulse had been to smack him. He deserved it, no matter what excuse he gave. "Hey, I said I was sorry and besides you were being rude."

Dean scoffed, flicking off the television when he found nothing appealing to watch. "I was being _me_. I make no excuses for what comes out of my mouth. My head and my tongue do not work in sync."

"I can attest to that," she said, falling down beside him on the sofa, elbowing him in the ribs in the process.

Dean moaned in pain. Okay, her elbow was _bony_! "No wonder you don't have a boyfriend. If you're this violent you must've killed them. They probably all died from some sort of body injury, resulting from months of prolonged exposure to your abuse. Are the bodies buried out in the backyard in wooden boxes with their names carved on the front in blood?"

"What?" Peyton declared. A second later, she added, "I only kill the annoying ones," piercing him with an evil glare.

"Oh now that's just scary," he said, laughing at her attempt at an evil face.

Peyton slapped his arm playfully, enjoying the playful banter that came so easily to them. She was never this way with Nathan or Lucas. Come to think of it she was never really this at peace with Jake either. Leaning her head against Dean shoulder, she asked, "Come with me to the store. I have to buy some groceries for dinner."

"You're cooking?"

Peyton lifted her head quickly, nudging his leg with her knee. "Don't sound at all surprised. I live by myself, you know. I know how to cook. Besides, I'm not like you. I can not live out of a pizza box."

Dean sucked in a breath. "Did you just insult the best cuisine _ever_?" he asked, feigning insult.

"Uh… yeah, I think I did," Peyton told him as she stood up and began making her way to the kitchen.

"Oh. Okay. I was just checking," he yelled after her as he began to follow. "So, is this a special meal, or what?" he questioned, entering the kitchen behind her.

"I guess you could say that," she said, stoically, looking into the refrigerator, making a mental checklist of what she needed to prepare the meal for later that night.

"You guess?" he asked, moving to the kitchen table. Pulling up a chair, he watched as she reached into a drawer to grab a pen and a pad of paper.

"It's like a welcome home dinner for Mouth, okay?"

"Okay." He quieted, even though there were a thousand questions on the tip end of his tongue ready to be voiced and equally ignored. He wanted to ask her something - anything - but remained quiet. She must've sensed his inner turmoil because she looked over at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

When he remained silent, she spat out, "What? Speak!"

"I am not a dog. I do not speak upon your request."

"Dean," she warned, slamming her paper pad onto the table.

As her hands splayed out on the table, he said, "Okay. I was just wondering…"

"… if Mouth is the boyfriend I didn't tell you about," she finished for him. It was a little unnerving how she always knew what he was thinking. Dean wasn't sure if he liked that someone knew him that well.

"Well, since you brought it up…"

Peyton laughed, falling down into the chair across from him. "I assure you that Mouth and I are _just _friends. He's had a rough year. He had a bad thing for my friend, Brooke and when that didn't pan out he started dating this other girl. Erica broke his heart earlier in the summer when she became too popular."

"That's harsh."

Peyton nodded her head in agreement. "Mouth's the underdog. He's got a great heart that no one really sees."

"But you do?"

"I find the good in most people."

"Is that supposed to be a jab at me or something?"

Peyton grabbed her pen to began making her grocery list as she muttered, "Not at all."

Dean sat back in his chair, threading his hands behind his head as he watched her begin to scribble on the pastel notepad. "You know I was talking to Tim the other night at the party…," he said, propping his feet on the table.

"You think you're at your house?" Peyton snapped. "Get your damn feet off the table!"

Dean's feet dropped quickly to the floor as he stared across the table at Peyton. "What bug crawled up your butt?"

"A bug called Dean. You're being annoying as hell with all your questions. You're not my boyfriend. You don't get to ask all these questions about my personal life." Whoa! Where'd that come from? She wondered after the words were out of her mouth.

It was true that she was tired of the inquisitions that seemed to tag along with him lately. It seemed to be one string of questions after another and it was beginning to work on her nerves. It wouldn't bother her so much if Dean would put an effort into elevating their relationship, but he hadn't made one step past friendship, much to her dismay.

"Fine," he scoured. "I'll just sit here and be quiet."

"Or you can go back and watch TV," she said, pointing toward the living room with her pen.

"Or I can go and watch TV," Dean snarked, pushing back his chair, abruptly standing to his feet. He was about to walk out of the kitchen when he spun around to look at Peyton to say, "You're the one that made me get up in the first place."

"No, _you _followed me in here."

"_You _said that we were going to the store."

"I didn't say right now."

Dean made a confused face that Peyton wanted to laugh at, but after their little tête-à-tête a few moments before she doubted he would find the humor in it. "Then I'm going to go watch NASCAR."

"Well, go," she prodded, in an effort to get him out of the kitchen so that she could concentrate on her list and stave off any remaining questions that he may have about her and her love life. God forbid!

"I will."

"Okay."

"Good."

A few seconds later when he had failed to move out of the doorway, she said, "You're still here."

"I'm going, I'm going," he announced, then finally began making his way back to the living room, muttering to himself the entire way there.

---

"Do you need me to help you with anything?" Dean asked, placing the last bag of groceries on the table. The entire grocery store excursion had been tense, the two of them barely speaking to one another. He had figured that Peyton had gotten annoyed by all his questions and accusations, but that she'd be over it by the time that they left to go to the store.

He figured wrong.

She had even offered to go to the store by herself if he had "more important things to do." She had asked him to go, so he was going, whether she was pissed at him or not.

And he suffered for an hour in the grocery store with her. The ride to and from was more harrowing that the actual shopping. They had argued over radio stations. She had bitched about how uncomfortable the seat in his car was and how the seatbelt kept getting stuck. When she tripped over the seatbelt on her way out of the car, she had kicked his tire in frustration. He had found her bitchiness a tad bit annoying, but he was also completely smitten by her outlandish behavior at the same time.

He was so far gone. And still he did nothing about it. Why didn't he do anything about it?

When he'd come back he hadn't expected the reappearance of Peyton's biological mother. In fact, when he made the decision to return to Tree Hill, he'd been intent on picking up exactly where he'd left off with Peyton.

Unfortunately with Ellie's presence and Peyton's turmoil over the entire situation, he just figured it was best that he let her decide when to move things forward. But maybe that hadn't been the best course of action.

Peyton shook her head as she began unpacking bags. "Haley's coming over later to help me with the preparations for everything."

Dean sighed, not liking being at odds with Peyton. But right now was not the time to go into a lengthy conversation about their relationship or lack thereof. "Guess I'll just go, then," he said, fighting the overwhelming need to apologize, even though he didn't know what he'd be apologizing for.

Peyton glanced up at him, opening her mouth as if to say something to him, but thought better of it, and snapped it shut. In turn she just nodded, "Okay."

Pausing in the doorway, Dean asked, "What time should I be back for dinner?"

"Whenever," Peyton said nonchalantly.

Well, if she was going to be _that _way! "Fine. I'll see you later."

Peyton stood staring at the empty doorway after Dean had stormed out of the kitchen, only moving once she heard the front door slam shut signaling Dean's leave.

---

"Girls are weird," Dean told the guys as he sat in the bleachers, watching the basketball game playing out in front of him.

After he'd left Peyton's he hadn't known where to go. He had contemplated grabbing a drink at one of the many bars on the outskirts of town, but quickly squashed that idea. He didn't want to show up at Peyton's dinner party reeking of booze. He'd only make a fool of himself, embarrass Peyton and ruin any chance that remained of ever establishing something more than friendship with the girl.

_Girl_, he scoffed. Was he back to that again? The differences to why they couldn't possibly be right for one another?

"Yeah, they are," Skills agreed as he passed the ball to Fergie. As Fergie was about to pass the ball to Lucas, Skills yelled, "Nuh-uh. You know he can't have the ball." Eyes on Lucas, Skills said, "Go sit your white ass down next to the emotionally incapable one."

"Hey!" Dean objected. "I am _not _emotionally incapable."

"Emotionally retarded, maybe," Lucas teased, his smile faltering when Dean shot him an irritated look. Oh, this was serious.

Skills, still laughing from Luke's comment, was the first to say something. "Dean, your heart works as good as Luke's, except in the opposite way."

As Luke sat down next to him, Dean leaned back to rest his elbows on the bleacher behind him, telling Skills, "Well, then, Professor, please enlighten me as to what my problem is. Why doesn't my heart work?"

"Because you're stupid."

Okay, he hadn't expected _that_! Why kind of diagnosis was that? 'Because you're stupid?' What kind of doctor says that? But Skills wasn't a doctor. He was simply way too opinionated and attentive to the goings-on around him.

"Pardon me?"

"He said…," Lucas began to repeat.

"I heard what he said," Dean snapped. Turning back to Skills he said, "I just want to know why he said it."

As Fergie and Junk continued to shoot hoops from behind them, Skills continued, "The girl wants you. She knows that you want her and she's just wondering if you're ever gonna do something about it. And I'm sure all that boyfriend-like possessive behavior you've been displaying lately ain't helping any."

"Boyfriend-like poss…," Dean trailed off in question. "What the hell are you talking about, Skills?"

"Hey, I may have been drunk the other night, but I got eyes. I can see. Smoke was shooting outta your ears whenever she was dancing with Tim."

"There was not," Dean amended, even though he knew what Skills was saying was true. He hadn't been jumping for joy when Peyton had began dancing with Tim. Especially after the conversation earlier in the evening when Tim implied that he and Peyton had been _together_.

Everyone else felt the need to chime in at that moment. Mumblings from every one of the guys had his head spinning, forcing him to his feet when they began voicing their opinions on what measures he should take with Peyton.

"I appreciate the help, but I don't need it," Dean told them as he began walking to his car, eager to get away from the conversation. "I can handle my relationship with Peyton just fine." The boys disagreed as they were all shaking their heads at him. "What?"

"Dean, you've been back almost two weeks and there's been no steps forward with you and Peyton," Lucas reminded him.

"I don't want to rush into anything."

"Obviously," Skills added with a roll of his eyes. "But you're not going to be here forever, Dean. How much longer are you going to bide your time? Better yet, how much more time do you have left to bide?"

---

He was dressed in the best pair of jeans he owned. He had spent an hour in his hotel room, torn between wearing his favorite pair of worn jeans or the only half decent pair he owned. The dark, practically new jeans won out, accompanied with a white shirt. It was dressy, too. He had left the tuxedo in his other duffel.

The whole practice of dressing up was foreign to him so he felt like he was ten again accompanying Sam out on Halloween for trick-or-treat. At least he wasn't dressed like a frog this time. That had been his Dad's idea of a practical joke.

He thought it imperative to be dressed to impress for this dinner. He had spent the last two days making an ass out of himself since Mouth had gotten back to town and he certainly didn't want to be known as Peyton's ass hole boyfriend.

_If you ever become Peyton's boyfriend_, his conscience mocked him.

Oh, not only were his friends comedians, but so was his conscience. He couldn't catch a break anywhere!

He stood outside on Peyton's doorstep, his heart racing. You could swear they were going on their first date. He was working up the courage to ask her on one. He was. He just didn't know when the words would finally leave his mouth.

Ringing the doorbell, he looked around at the quiet neighborhood as he waited for Peyton to answer the door. When she did, in a little black cocktail dress, his knuckles tightened around the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand. You go to a dinner party, you bring flowers, his grandmother had always told him. Of course, during his years growing up there weren't many opportunities to attend any dinner parties.

"You're early," Peyton said when she laid eyes on him.

"I could leave and come back later," he suggested.

Peyton shook her head, her eyes landing on the flowers in his hand. "Are those for me?"

Dean nodded, thrusting them toward her. "I didn't know what kind you liked so I just… I picked these." Gramma Winchester had insisted that all girls liked roses, no matter what color. But red was preferable. You bought red roses for someone that you liked or that you loved. So, red he had bought.

"They're beautiful, Dean. Thank you. Get in here," she said with a wave of her hand. Closing the door behind him she told him, "You sure clean up nice." She took a step forward, running her fingers along his jaw, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin beneath her fingertips. Being in such close proximity to Dean, she got a whiff of his scent as well, a mixture of soap, aftershave and cologne. All male. All Dean. _Heaven_.

Dean swallowed hard. "So do you." Moron! Could you not come up with something more original than that! Tell her she's beautiful or alluring or… or _something_!

"Look about this afternoon…"

"I'm willing to forget about it if you are."

Peyton smiled up at him, continuing to inch closer. "Everyone else will be here soon," she breathed against his neck.

"Then we should do this before they get here."

"Definitely."

But before they could move another inch, the doorbell rang. "They always time that perfect," Dean muttered as the door swung open behind them.

Haley, Lucas, Skills, Fergie and Mouth hovered at the door staring at Peyton and Dean with wide eyes. "I told you, Luke, that we'd be interrupting!"

---

"You know you don't have to stay and help me clean up," Peyton told Dean as she brought the dishes from the dining room into the kitchen.

Dean was standing at the sink, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, letting the water fill into the sink. "I don't mind," he told her as he began piling dishes in.

"I thought it was a nice dinner," Peyton told him, watching him with fascination as he began washing.

"Yeah, it was," Dean agreed, grinning at Peyton as he filled up the opposing sink with his newly cleaned dishes.

"You want me to help?"

Dean shook his head. "You put all this together. This is the least I could do. Especially after my bratty behavior earlier this afternoon," he said with a smile, watching as she lifted herself onto the cabinet beside him.

"I thought we agreed to let that go."

"Yeah, we did, I just… I need you to know that I never meant to act so…"

"… barbaric?" she offered. She giggled as Dean's face paled at her word choice. "You _were _displaying a few caveman tendencies."

Dean hung his head as he concentrated on the dishes. "I didn't mean to."

"I understand."

Dean looked toward her, asking, "Do you?" Wiping his wet hands on his jeans, he looked at Peyton, saying, "When I came back I wanted to just jump right into something. I was a little hesitant, but I came back to see what could happen. I _had _to know if this could develop into something more. But then with Ellie… I wanted to give you space. I didn't want to pull you into something that you weren't ready for with everything else going on."

"Dean, the whole Ellie thing was a hard pill to swallow but it would not have interfered with us. It _will not _interfere with us."

"I just didn't want to push you into something that you weren't ready for, Peyton."

"But I _am _ready, Dean. Willing and able, too."

Moving to stand in front of her, he placed his hands on either side of her legs as he leaned in toward her. Staring into her eyes, he amended, "I could screw this up." His last long lasting relationship had been back in high school. He'd been fifteen and his feelings for Teri did not compare to his feelings for Peyton.

"So could I."

"I could break your heart." Not that he wanted to even think about doing that at this juncture. It was just a precaution. He could and he probably would. After all, he couldn't remain in Tree Hill forever even though he'd like to.

Peyton was aware that Dean could hurt her but that was a chance that she was willing to take. Better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all, right? She wasn't going into this relationship with blinders on. She knew that she was putting her heart on the chopping block, but she wouldn't have it any other way. "I could break yours just the same."

"I could leave." That should've been "I'm going to leave," but no use in rubbing the inevitable in Peyton's face.

Always the optimist, Peyton countered with, "You could come back."

Dean smirked at her, teasing, "You have a reply for everything, don't you?"

Peyton shrugged, winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer. "And you have an excuse for everything. Guess it makes us a near perfect match."

"Guess it does," he relented with a sigh. Dean pressed his finger to his lips. "Shh. You hear that?"

Peyton listened for a moment, hearing nothing but silence. "I don't know what those bat ears of yours are picking up but I don't hear a damn thing."

"Precisely," he whispered, his voice thick with seduction. "No margin for interruptions."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.  
Author's Notes (2): Once again, this is the unbeta'ed copy because Gina decided to leave me to go on vacation in Jamaica. The whore. So, this is not the final draft. And it's lengthy because everything had to be in this chapter. The last one will be extra long, too and will hopefully be up by the weekend. And remember: Comments are crack.

**Come What May: Chapter Nine**

Peyton woke up with the unfamiliar feeling that she wasn't alone in her bed. The arm slung loosely across her waist was a dead giving away as was the hard chest acting as her pillow.

Lifting her head slightly, Peyton glanced up to see that Dean was still asleep. Peyton remained in her position, silently musing over how they had wound up in her bed.

The night before after the party had ended, Dean had stayed behind to help her with the clean up. They had began talking about their relationship and once Dean expressed the want to move forward, things had spiraled out of control.

They had began making out in the kitchen, but luckily Dean was able to keep his head about the whole thing. As much as he wanted her, he said that he didn't want to rush. She wanted him to rush, but even she knew that he was right to take things slow. They had finished the dishes, after a water fight during which they had wound up making out again.

When she had slipped in a puddle of water, twisting her ankle, Dean had carried her up to her bed where they had laid down to talk. Talking led to more kissing and somehow amidst that they had fallen asleep.

So here they lay in a tangled heap on her bed.

Pressing a kiss to the tip of Dean's nose, Peyton began to wriggle out of his grasp, only to have his arm tighten around her.

"You weren't seriously thinking of leaving me, were you?" he murmured, trying his hardest to stifle a yawn as he turned his eyes to her.

"I was just going to the bathroom," she reassured him. "I'll be right back."

Had he been more alert, Dean probably would've put up more of a fight but he was still half-asleep. He allowed Peyton to leave him, his eyes following her every move until she'd locked herself up in the bathroom across the hallway.

When his eyes landed on Peyton's bedside clock, he let out a small groan. It was eight o'clock in the morning. He had spent yet another night at Peyton's house. If this didn't arise suspicion amongst their friends, he didn't know what would.

When Peyton padded back into the room a few moments later, Dean sat up as she climbed back into the bed with him, curling up at his side. "So, what are the plans for today?" Peyton asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"Not really sure. Why? Did you have something in mind?" Their conversation the night before had fell short. There had been no set plans for the day, but he thought that somewhere between the childhood stories and the horrors of their love lives that they had agreed to attempt a relationship. He was pretty sure that's the decision that they'd mutually agreed upon.

Peyton shook her head. "You know, we could always go skating again," she suggested, grinning up at him.

"You should count your lucky stars that you got me in them the first time. Girlfriend or no girlfriend you're pushing your luck."

Dean's words hung there in the air, both of them silent, not knowing what to say. Did they refute his statement? Was she his girlfriend?

They hadn't hammered out the details and then again this wasn't grade school where you had to ask the other person to be your girlfriend/boyfriend. Though, it had been awhile since Dean had had a girlfriend so maybe all the rules had changed.

"Okay, then," Peyton relented, leaning over to brush a kiss to Dean's cheek. "No skating," Peyton replied, snuggling closer to Dean. "What do you want to do, then?"

"I have no complaints about staying right here."

---

Dean left on Thursday when worked called. Well… when work left him a voicemail.

Dean had turned off his phone while he and Peyton were at a drive-inn movie in Summerville and didn't get the message from his dad until they'd arrived back at Peyton's house.

He had left town that night, calling her the following morning to tell her about his spur of the moment trip out of town. He'd promised that he'd make it up to her whenever he returned and that was one promise that he would see to fruition.

He planned to take her out on an actual date when he returned.

If only he knew what it was like to be out on an _actual _date.

---

Peyton was stepping out of the bathroom when she heard the front door open. Walking to the railing of the stairs, she watched as Dean maneuvered his way into the house, his duffel slung over his shoulder.

She peered down, smiling as she watched Dean's eyes swept over the house, then landed on her standing atop the stairs.

"Honey, I'm home," he joked with a wide grin, kicking the door closed as he dropped his duffel at his feet.

"You're back."

"And you're wet," he observed with as much restraint as possible. If his four days away taught him anything it was that she was ingrained into every fiber of his being. With her was where he wanted to be and that wasn't going to make his inevitable departure from her life any easier - on either one of them.

"I was in the shower."

He frowned in mock disappointment. "And you didn't wait for me?"

"I would have had I known that you were on your way back," she teased, knowing the game all too well.

Over the past two weeks since they had decided upon the course of their relationship, they had been throwing sexual barbs at one another right and left.

They'd had several opportunities to take their relationship farther, but neither had made the first move. Peyton was too scared to make the first move and Dean didn't want things them to progress much too quickly.

Dean began trudging his way upstairs as he said, "I had my eye on the prize, so to speak. I wanted to get back to you." At the last step, he added sincerely, "I'm sorry I didn't call."

"It's okay. You're two for two with the coming back, at least."

"In all fairness, you did keep my lucky shirt," he teased, gesturing to the button down blue shirt that she was wearing.

"I found it on the floor. Finder's keepers, buddy," she said as Dean leaned forward to capture her lips. A sigh escaped Peyton's lips as she melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him closer. "I missed you," she whispered when they broke apart.

"It was only four days."

"It felt like longer."

"Yeah, it did."

Peyton made her way into her room as she toweled off her hair. "So everything went okay, I assume."

"Oh, yeah. Just great," he said flippantly. If only knew the shit that he had to go through… But then she never would because he would never tell her. He would never put her in danger that way and he would never make himself that vulnerable. He didn't even want to contemplate revealing that dark family secret and what impact it'd have on their relationship.

As she grabbed her hairbrush and began pushing it through her hair, she turned to him to ask, "Are you ever going to tell me what it is you do?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but wasn't ready to barrage her with a series of lies and untruths. Instead, he opted for, "Maybe one day."

That, at least, wasn't a _complete _lie.

---

"So…," Skills began looking from Lucas to Junk to Mouth and then finally to Dean, waiting for him to lift his head from his food. They were all curious as to what had been happening between Dean and Peyton but none of them had had enough balls to come right out and ask Dean.

They were all acutely aware of the hours that Dean spent at Peyton's, but it was the latest development that had them all bewildered. Dean had been spending the nights there, too so they had been left to wonder and form their own hypothesis, but the time for simply wondering were now over.

They wanted details and they wanted them now.

Realizing that all the guys were looking at him, Dean lifted his head from his sandwich to find four pairs of eyes focused on him. Dropping his sandwich onto his plate, Dean asked, "What?"

"We've been patient, Dean, but you're holding out on us, man."

"What're you talking about Skills?"

"You and Peyton, dawg."

Dean glanced from one boy to the next. "You all seriously want to sit here and gossip like we're a bunch of girls at a slumber party?"

"Yeah," they all chimed at the same time.

Dean shook his head as he told them, "Well, I'm not gonna do that. I respect Peyton way too much to talk about what goes on between us with you guys."

As they whistled, Dean immediately realized his mistake. He cursed to himself as he sat back in his chair. His appetite had suddenly disappeared now that Karen's Café had transformed into _Central Perk_.

"So, there's something to tell," Skills said, tapping his chin.

"There's nothing to tell," Dean insisted. "Peyton and I are…," he trailed off, watching as they all leaned forward, hanging on his every word. He felt like he was in the midst of the _Grease _screenplay. Leather jackets, greased hair, bleacher dancing and all. Weird.

"You are…?" Lucas questioned. Even he was out of the loop. Haley had been tight lipped about anything and everything on the Dean and Peyton front, not giving him any details aside from telling him that they were spending oodles of time together. Yes, she had even said _oodles_.

"We're… we're…," Dean stammered. With a sigh, he confessed, "We're taking things _slow_."

"That's girl code for until you're trustworthy, you ain't gettin' any," Skills said, sitting back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Man, that's just… cruel. I can't believe Peyton threw down the slow card."

"Actually, it was my idea."

Junk chose that moment to involve himself in the conversation. "Um… why?"

"Because it seemed like the most logical course to take given the circumstances."

"Dean, dude… do you hate yourself that much? You're never gonna get laid," Junk continued, the others chorusing their agreement.

Dean grabbed a napkin, wiped his mouth, then crumbled it into a ball, tossing it onto his empty plate. "I have no interest in getting Peyton into bed."

A variety of arguments erupted from around the table.

"Why? Did you develop a penchant for boys?" Skills blurted out, everyone turning their eyes to secure him with pointed looks. "What? You were all thinking it! I just said it."

"No, Skills. At this point bedding Peyton is not the highest priority on my list."

"And just what is high priority on the Dean list?" Lucas asked, rolling his eyes at his own word choice.

"Not shattering her heart into a thousand pieces when I have to leave her for good."

---

It was their third attempt at a date.

The first try had been trumped when the dress Peyton had bought for their date had ripped while she was getting ready. She hadn't wanted to wear another one so they had postponed that particular date.

For their second date, they'd remarkably made it out of the door and were in the car en route to their dinner reservation when Haley called, in desperate need of extra hands at the café. So, they had gone to help Haley out at the overly crowded café, promising that the next time that they planned to go out that nothing would heed their plans.

Tonight, they refused to let anything ruin their night. They had turned off both their phones, on the off-chance that an emergency would arise. Though they had sworn bodily harm to anyone that disturbed them.

Peyton was curious as to what Dean's plans were for the evening seeing as how they had driven two hours out of the way to Raleigh. When she had asked what he had planned he only promised that the night away from Tree Hill would be enjoyable.

The last place Peyton had ever expected Dean to take her was to a visual arts center. Hell, it was the last place Dean himself ever intended to go on a date. Art centers were not his stomping ground. He was used to taking girls to bars for dates that he went on. But those girls weren't anything like Peyton.

Art may not have been his forte, but he took pleasure in seeing the smile on Peyton's face as she meandered around the building, taking in every sculpture and painting. Her squeals of delight at finding something that she enjoyed or admired was worth spending a night amongst things that he didn't understand and couldn't comprehend.

After Peyton had rounded the art house - twice! - Dean took her to an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Raleigh, amusing her with his knowledge of Italian and his many other languages.

When asked where he'd adapted his bilingual tongue, he told her that his parents were cultural peoples. Had he been Pinocchio he was sure his lengthening nose would've taken out her eye. Perhaps both.

When several tables around them congregated to the dance floor, Peyton pulled Dean out of his chair as well amid his protests. Once they had found a spot amongst the crowd, Peyton slid into Dean's arms.

"I had a nice time tonight," she told him, her eyes baring into his. She wasn't sure how she knew and if she could be for sure, but there was something in his eyes that was unsettling to her. She had come to know a lot about Dean over the summer and even though she didn't know quite as much as she'd like to, she knew him fairly well - well enough to know when he was keeping something from her.

She'd known from the very beginning that he was keeping aspects of his life from her. He skirted certain subjects and though she tried to chuck it up to him being a very private person, she knew that there was more to it than that.

But she wouldn't prod. There some things that she hadn't shared with him. The Lucas thing especially. Did she want to tell Dean? Yes. Of course. He had the right to know. He and Lucas were friends after all and it was bound to come out sooner or later. She'd tell him when she felt ready. The question was would she ever be ready. Those wounds, though buried now, were still fresh. She didn't even want to contemplate having to relive her tumultuous unrelationship with Lucas, especially to Dean, of all people.

"I'm glad," Dean said as they swayed to the music. _Okay, not so horrible_, he thought.

"No one has ever taken me to an art house before."

"Really?"

Peyton shook her head. "Really. It meant a lot that you did that."

"Your art is a big part of who you are, Peyton. Even though we haven't known each other for long, I know that. I just wanted you to know that it matters to me. That you… _you _matter to me."

Peyton stared up at him, breathless. His words reverberated in her head, ringing in sync to the words that Lucas had told her so long ago.

But for some reason Dean's words meant _more_.

---

"Peyton, are you almost ready?" Dean asked as he paced the floor outside her bedroom door. They were celebrating Skills' birthday at TRIC and she was going to make them late.

He checked his watch once again, bemoaning himself for agreeing to wait for her. Haley had offered to wait for Peyton so that he could go on to the party with the guys, but did he let her? No!

He hadn't suspected that it would take Peyton two hours to prettify herself, though. But seeing how she was a seventeen year old girl he shouldn't have expected less.

"Keep your pants on!" she yelled from behind the door.

"You can't see me, but I'm glaring at you right now," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Suddenly the door was yanked open, making Dean stumble so as not to fall flat on his face. Once he recovered, he found Peyton standing in front of him, looking rather annoyed. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"I need your help."

"With…?"

She spun around revealing her open backed dress. "The zipper's stuck."

Dean gulped, staring at her bare back. Two words repeated themselves in his head - _No. Bra. _He rolled his eyes at his own dramatics, stepping forward to help her. "You just need a man's touch is all."

Peyton harrumphed as Dean mentally scolded himself for letting those words pass his lips. He'd been in Tree Hill a total of six weeks and even though he very much wanted a physical relationship with Peyton, he wasn't ready to advance their relationship to that level quite yet. He liked how pure things were between them now. He liked not having a relationship based solely on sex and their relationship was about so much more than how compatible they were between the sheets.

But standing her now, readying himself to zip up her dress all he could think about was how fast he could get her out of it.

He yanked at his shirt collar. It was hot in her room. Stifling, in fact. Were the walls closing in or were his hysterics at an all time high?

"Dean?" Peyton queried when he had yet to help her with her zipper dilemma.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry," he apologized. Yes, it was hysteria. Hysteria due to lack of sex and the fact that he was dating a teenager. He was surprised he hadn't gone crazy before now. "I, uh… I need you to urn around so that I can zip you up," he told her.

"Right." She spun around to allow him access to her zipper.

He yanked the zipper a few times to unloosen it before sliding it up. "There. All zipped up," he announced, quickly snatching his fingers away.

Peyton faced him again, thanking him with a kiss to his cheek. As she walked across the room to retrieve her purse he said, "You know, I honestly miss the jeans."

"Yeah, how come?"

"Because the dresses make my brain veer off it's pure and innocent path."

Peyton couldn't contain her laughter. "Pure and innocent? Really, Dean?"

"Hey! I am not a horn dog, you know."

"I never said you were. _You _said you were."

Dean threaded a hand through his hair. "So, you ready?"

"Just a second. Why the hurry?"

Dean checked his watch again. They were officially late. "You're slow. We're late. I need a drink. The end."

Her purse in hand, Peyton told him, "I'm ready."

"Finally!"

"How do I look?"

Dean glossed over her, taking in the high heels, the stockings and the emerald green dress. "Oh, yeah. I definitely miss the jeans," he groaned as he led the way out of her bedroom with Peyton laughing behind him.

---

Dean sat at the bar with Haley and Fergie, watching Peyton out on the dance floor with Skills, Lucas, Junk and Mouth and the rest of the crowd.

The party was in full swing, the turn out better than Peyton and Haley had originally intended. The success of the party was due in part to Fergie having the party announced on the radio and the arrival of Skills' family from Charlotte.

Laughter chorused between them as Skills became the engineer of the train as it made it's way around TRIC. "I'd say that this is a birthday that Skills won't forget," Haley told Dean, who was not listening. He was more intent on the side conversation currently in progress between Lucas and Peyton on the dance floor. They were standing close together, deep in conversation.

Their intimate conversation would not have bothered him had Lucas not been holding Peyton's hand. He had squashed the thoughts that Lucas and Peyton had had a past relationship. They would've told him so if they had.

_Someone _would've told him. Right?

He pulled his eyes away as the conversation broke up and Peyton made her way toward him. She brushed a kiss to his cheek asking why he was being anti-social.

Maybe his crack about her being social enough for the both of them had pushed the envelope too far.

But enough was enough.

He wanted the truth.

And he wanted it now.

---

Dean followed Peyton upstairs to her room, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he lingered in the doorway. He watched as she set her purse down on her desk as she checked for any messages on the answering machine.

"You know I think I'm just gonna go…," he told her.

"Dean, wait," Peyton called out as Dean turned to leave. "What's wrong? You've been all emo since we left the party."

"Just tired is all."

Peyton eyed him skeptically. "You're sure that's all?"

Dean nodded his head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peyton frowned as Dean disappeared from her doorway. No goodnight kiss. No 'I'll call you'. Nothing. Now, she knew something was wrong with him. She just wished that he would tell her what it was that was bothering him.

She was reaching around her back to unzip her dress when Dean burst through the doorway. "No. You know, I've put off asking this question for as long as possible, but after tonight I can't just _not _ask it."

Peyton stared at him, anticipating the question that he so desperately wanted answered. "What is it that you want to know?"

"Was Lucas… were you and him… did you…," he rambled on, clearly not wanting to come out and ask the question. He really didn't want to know if Peyton and his friend had been romantically involved, even if he had been suspicious of the fact for a long time. He didn't want to know because it was going to change the entire circle. Clearing his throat, the words finally came. "Were you and Lucas involved?"

"Yes," Peyton said simply.

"Yes?" he repeated. She didn't even stammer or stutter or… or anything! God, he was going to be sick.

He fell onto Peyton's bed, dropping his head into his hands as he heard her say, "It was a few years ago. There was a small… thing. It's history now."

Dean snapped his head up to lock eyes with her. "It is? It certainly doesn't look that way tonight."

"We're still friends, Dean. And he needed a friend tonight."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Hey, that's your prerogative. Believe what you want. A lot happened with Lucas and I, but things between us didn't work. It destroyed the relationship that we could have had and the friendship that we did have. It took us I a long time to get our friendship back, but when we finally did we promised each other not to let each other slip away so easily again. That's is it. That's all you need to know," she finished. "Do I still love him? Do I still harbor feelings for him? The answer is a definitive _no_."

Dean held up his hands. "Wait, wait. Back up a second. You were in love with him?"

"Yes, I was," she admitted. There was no use lying about it. It was what it was. She was in love with Lucas at one point in her life. But the Lucas that she loved and the Lucas that he became that year were two totally different people. He was becoming that Lucas that she loved again, but her love for him was strictly on a friends only level.

Dean wasn't that easily swayed. "How do you know you still aren't?"

"Because Lucas became someone that I hardly recognized. He became the guy that Nathan was while I was with him and I didn't want to go down that road with another guy."

"So then Lucas was the guy that broke your heart?"

"He was one of many, Dean. He was one of many," she told him with a deep sigh. "What were you expecting when you burst back in here? Were you expecting me to tell you that I was still in love with Lucas and that I'm using you to make him jealous?"

"I don't know what the hell I was expecting, Peyton. All I know is that when I saw the two of you talking tonight… that damn voice inside my head was telling me that there was something deeper between you two than friendship."

"At a time there was," she conceded. "But I don't think of Lucas in that way anymore." She smiled at him. "I haven't had feelings for Lucas for a long time, Dean."

"Yeah, I believe you…" Dean crossed the room to her. "I just… the last person I'd want to lose you to is Lucas."

"So it wouldn't bother you if I was seeing Skills?"

Dean shook his head. "No, of course not! Fergie, maybe, because you know he's got the nice hair…" he joked.

"Oh, quit it!"

"No, I would be totally jealous. I mean, his hair _is _nicer than mine."

"You're incorrigible!" Peyton said, pushing past him. The second she did so, something inside her roared to life. Her hand stalled on his chest, the both of them staring at it with wide eyes.

"Peyton…" Her name slipped from his lips barely audible over the sound of her heart thrumming against her chest. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as Dean's hands fell to her hips.

She was barely able to concentrate as her back slammed into the wall, Dean's mouth viciously attacking hers. His kisses were normally not so feral, but considering their previous conversation she could see where the change had stemmed from. His tongue traced her bottom lip, then her top before his tongue nudged them apart, pushing into her mouth to tangle with hers.

A soft whimper escaped her mouth when he pulled away to brush his lips across her jawline, his fingers digging into her satin covered flesh. Not a second later his mouth swept over hers again, his hands sliding down her thighs to slip under her dress.

"This is crazy," Peyton moaned as Dean began splaying kisses down her throat.

"So crazy," Dean agreed, his mind foggy from this sexual haze that she had put him in. He knew that this didn't make any sense. For Pete's sake they were just arguing not five minutes before whether or not she was still in love with another guy! How had they gone from bickering about that to making out against the wall?

He didn't know and he really didn't fucking care.

"We were just arguing…," she continued to object.

"And now we're not," Dean said, dropping kisses along her collarbone. Her whimpers and soft moans were urging him forward, his hands continuing to creep farther up her dress. His fingers traced the hem of her panty before he pushed into the scrap of material.

A loud gasp escaped Peyton's throat as his hand slipped between her thighs. Dean's eyes snapped to hers, but the kiss that she pressed to his forehead told him that stopping was the last thing that she wanted.

So he didn't.

---

Peyton rolled over, her roll impeded by the male body occupying the space beside her. Her knocking into his side pushed him out of his slumber as he groaned, "I'm up. You woke me up."

His arm spread out, welcoming her into his arms. Happy to oblige, Peyton slid into the curve of his arm, resting her head against his warm chest. "I thought you and Haley had a thing this morning."

"We do. Much later."

Dean's eyes snapped open, turning to her. "How much later?" he asked with a mischievous smile, covering Peyton's body with his, her laughter ringing through the room.

---

The cat-that-ate-the-canary grin was hard to ignore. Haley was privy to that smile. She knew what was up. And she wanted the dish. Watching Peyton tap away at the computer, she prodded, "So… how was it? Spill. I want details, girl."

"Am I that transparent?"

"Yes," Haley said, scooting to the edge of the bed. "Details. Spill. Now. _Please?_"

Peyton turned her chair away from her computer as she recounted the events of the previous night, quickly filling Haley in on her argument with Dean about Lucas and the events that transpired afterward. "It was just… amazing. There weren't candles or rose petals, but even without all those clichéd things, it was still special. Nathan never made it special."

Haley frowned. "Okay, I'll let that part slide."

"I didn't mean it like that. It wasn't special with me and Nathan because we weren't in love."

"So you're saying you're in love with Dean?"

Peyton shook her head. "No. Yes. No! No, I'm not in love with Dean." She frowned. "At least I don't think what I'm feeling is love. I don't know. I mean… it _could _be."

"It _could _be, though?"

"Yeah, it could," Peyton agreed, her smile saying otherwise. Deep down she knew that she was already in love with Dean Winchester. But that wasn't something that she wanted to admit in fear of him abandoning her at the end of summer. And as summer slowly drew to a close, so did Dean's remaining days in Tree Hill.

Despite that he was leaving, it couldn't sour her mood so she continued gabbing with Haley about her night with Dean. "We cuddled," she admonished as she sat down beside Haley on the bed.

"You cuddled?"

"Afterwards, we did. And it was… it was nice." Haley held up a finger as she closed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to picture Dean cuddling," she said, laughing when Peyton slapped her arm playfully. Snapping open her eyes, she told her friend, "It's weird to even contemplate him doing something like that."

"Like what?"

Both girls turned as Dean walked into Peyton's room. "Nothing," Peyton said even as Haley blurted out, "You cuddling."

"You told her?" he snapped at Peyton who just shrugged. "Peyton, you don't go around broadcasting that! I have… I have a reputation, you know."

Haley crossed the room toward Dean pinching his cheeks as she said, "Wooer sekwet's safe wit me, Cuddle bucket."

"Peyton, make her stop!"

---

Dean was bored. Haley had dragged Peyton into town for the day for much needed "girl time" leaving him by himself. He'd gone down to the Rivercourt for a few hours to play basketball with the guys and hadn't been back at Peyton's long. Just his luck that there was nothing on the television, either. Typical Saturday.

He was never so excited to hear the front door open to hear Peyton yell, "I'm home!"

"I'm in the living room."

"Of course! Where else would you be?" she laughed walking into the living room, weighed down with bags.

"What the fuck did you buy?" he asked as she set all her bags down beside him on the sofa.

"Hey, I go back to school in a few weeks. I needed a new wardrobe."

"Yes, because the hip hugger jeans are just _so _last year," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, shut up," she said, leaning down to kiss him in welcome. "What did you do all day?"

Dean peered into a bag from Victoria's Secret which Peyton immediately pulled away from him. "Nothing, really. I sat right here watching the clock waiting for you to come home." He grinned widely at her, knowing that she would see through the ruse.

"So basketball was fun?" she asked as she began pulling objects out of her bag. He stifled a laugh when she pulled out three pairs of jeans.

"How'd you know?"

"Haley talked to Lucas. He said that he'd been forever banished to the bleachers with Mouth and that you and Skills beat Junk and Fergie?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was a minor defeat and Lucas was so jealous!" Dean boasted, having taken great pleasure in witnessing his friend's discernment over not being able to play basketball.

"Yes, and I'm sure that you restrained yourself from rubbing it in."

"How dare you even suggest that I…," he began as Peyton looked at him. "Okay, yes. I rubbed it in. How could I not?"

"You are a creature like no other, Dean."

"That's a compliment, right?"

"Take it and run," Peyton laughed, snapping her fingers. "Oh, that reminds me," Peyton told Dean as she rummaged through her shopping bags. "I bought you something."

"You did, what?" he asked, interested.

"It's nothing extravagant or expensive, just something that I found in this vintage shop that Haley dragged me into," she said, extracting a small rectangular white box from one of her bags. "Here." She handed him the box as Dean eyed her curiously.

Dean stared at her skeptically. "It's not like a dead frog or anything, is it?"

Peyton shook her head. "No, it's not. And it's not a knife or any other boy item."

Intrigued, Dean lifted the top and pushed aside the paper, revealing a thick, silver ring inside. "A ring, huh?"

Peyton noted the lackluster response. "It's stupid. I'll take it back," she said, reaching to take the box from him.

"No, no, no," he said, fighting her for the box. "I like it."

"You're just saying that. No you don't. C'mon, Dean, give it back. I'll take it back to the store and buy you… I don't know, tire grease or something."

"No. I like the ring. I've never gotten jewelry from a girl before. The occasional shoe in the head or sexual favor…"

"Stop right there if you want to keep your tongue," she warned.

Laughing, Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down with him onto the sofa. "Thank you."

Peyton sighed, "You're welcome."

She watched as he slipped it onto his right ring finger. "So, I'm just curious about one thing, though…"

"What's that?"

"Does this mean we're engaged?"

Peyton guffawed as she slid away from him, moving toward the kitchen, mumbling to herself.

"What?" Dean asked, chuckling to himself as he bolted off the couch. Quick at her foot heels, he called out, "Come on, Peyton, I was only kidding! You can't give me jewelry and not expect me to make a crack like that!"


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.  
Author's Notes (2): I hated to do this, but I had to split up the last chapter. It was just getting to be too long. At nine thousand words I had to find somewhere to split it. So, hope you all understand! So, this is NOT the end. The conclusion will be posted soon as well. And remember: Comments are crack.

**Come What May: Chapter Ten**

They'd laid in bed for nearly a half-hour arguing over who got the shower first before Peyton finally relented, allowing him to go first. Her dad would be calling that morning anyway and she didn't want him to pick him the phone and have her dad freak out over the strange man answering his daughter's phone so early in the morning.

He'd just stepped into the shower when he heard the phone ring. He'd heard Peyton answer the phone, but then she'd must have disappeared downstairs to continue her phone call. As he stood beneath the spray of the shower, he wondered if she'd told her had about him. She constantly talked about her dad to him so he couldn't help but wonder if that went the other way around.

Turning off the tap, Dean stepped out of the shower, grabbing for the towel that hung on the rack beside the shower stall. Wrapping the terry cloth around his waist, he winced as his fingers brushed against the nail marks on his side left by Peyton.

Dean grinned to himself as he shook the excess water from his hair. She hadn't purposefully scratched the hell out of him, but at the least her marks, both clawed and bitten, were able to be hidden from view.

The last thing he needed was Skills and Lucas getting sight of those, wanting details that he was not about to give.

Crossing to the sink, he wiped the moisture from the mirror, his eyes zoning in on the medicine cabinet. Pulling it open to locate some Neosporin or alcohol for his wounds, he instead found himself focusing on the golden cocaine vial.

In amidst all the excitement of expanding his relationship with Peyton, he had forgotten about the vial. He had meant to ask her about it, but didn't want to throw a wrench into their relationship so early on.

Plucking it from the cabinet, he stared at it with wide eyes. He had never suspected that Peyton was doing drugs. She seemed like the normal, happy-go-lucky teenager. He had no reason to…

At that moment, Peyton burst through the door. "Sorry, I just needed…," she trailed off when she saw what he held in his hand. "What… what are you doing with that?" she asked, her hazel eyes wide with worry.

"Wondering what _you're _doing with it," he countered. It was amazing how quick he could slip into his detective mode. He leaned against the counter, holding the empty vial between his thumb and forefinger. "What are you doing with this, Peyton?" His eyes bore into hers awaiting an answer, but instead, he received a verbal bitch slap.

She stomped across the room, taking the vial out of his hand, spatting, "What I'm doing with it is none of your business." She then turned on her heels and exited the bathroom, yelling, "I can't believe you went through my things," over her shoulder as she moved back across the hallway to her room.

"Hey, I wasn't done!" Dean yelled after her, following suit.

"Well, I was!" she declared, slamming the door behind herself.

Dean pushed open the door, but hovered in her doorway as she stood at the window with her back to him. He could see that her shoulders were shaking, but remained where he was. He didn't think she'd accept his comfort anyway. Not right now. "I just want to know why it's there, Peyton. It is yours, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's mine," she admitted. With a sigh, she wiped at teary eyes, telling him, "I only did it once. Last year as I was opening TRIC and trying to secure new acts… there was this one guy…." She spun around to face him, saying, "It was _one _stupid mistake, Dean. I have no desire to do it again. You _have _to believe me."

"I do believe you," he told her with the utmost sincerity.

She stared at the golden tube in her hand, crushing it into her fist. "I was alone and confused and… there was no one. I had _no one_."

Dean was across the room within seconds, taking her in his arms. "You have me, Peyton," he consoled her.

Neither addressed the thought running rampant through both their heads.

_But for how much longer would she have him?_

---

"Why are you making me watch this crap?" Dean asked as he grabbed for the remote.

Peyton snuggled closer against his chest, declaring, "Hey, I like this show."

"It's like Springer meets 90210!" Dean admonished, having tired of the Laguna Beach marathon that Peyton had made him sit through. "Besides, shouldn't you be watching… oh, I don't know… the music channels… _or something_."

"This _is _MTV," Peyton pointed out, shushing him as the show returned from it's commercial break.

"I know, but…this doesn't seem to be your thing. Haley's? Yeah, of course. But not yours." Peyton stared up at him, smiling at him, as he snapped his fingers saying, "Haley got you hooked, didn't she?"

"She did," Peyton answered, frowning at the TV having missed the last few minutes of the show due to Dean's incessant whining.

Dean squealed when the show faded to black and the credits began to roll. "YES!" he yelped, pumping his hands above his head. "Finally! Can we watch something that's not so… girly and dramatic now?"

"Fine," Peyton said, pushing the remote control into his chest. "I need something to drink," she told him as she pushed off the sofa. "You want something?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm okay." He watched for a moment as she made her way to the kitchen, wondering when she'd developed a penchant for wearing his shirts. At least today she was wearing pants.

After Peyton had left the room, he grabbed the newspapers that he had picked up earlier that day. He'd had to find his last two hunts seeing that his dad was hunting in California. He'd found it odd that he hadn't heard from his dad for a few weeks, but he chalked it up to the elder Winchester just being consumed by his current hunt.

The last time that Dean had spoken to his dad was when they'd met up during his last excursion out of town two weeks before. He'd gone up to Cincinnati to investigate a mysterious train wreck, surprised when his dad had shown up just as he was getting ready to leave his motel and head back to Tree Hill.

They had gone to a diner for lunch, his dad explaining that he was headed to California to investigate the disappearances of nearly a dozen men in Jericho. His dad had left him with his research in case he wanted to join him on the hunt.

But Dean tried not to put much thought into his father's lack of communication. Hunting was what John Winchester did best. He was pretty sure that his dad was just focused on his current case.

As he began perusing the newspapers, his phone beeped from it's spot on the floor, signaling that he had a new voicemail. Reaching down to scoop it up, he opened it, quickly dialing his voice box.

It was Caleb, passing along a message from his dad about something that he should look into in New Orleans.

His dad wanted him to check it out so that's what he would do. He'd never disobeyed an order. Especially when it came through the grapevine.

Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed his shirt and jeans from the back of the sofa and began to dress as his eyes shot to the hallway, waiting for Peyton's inevitable reentrance.

"Hey Dean I was thinking that tomorrow we could…," Peyton was saying as she returned from the kitchen, her thoughts disappearing into oblivion when she found Dean pulling on his jeans. "What's going on?"

"Something came up. I have to go," he told her, not bothering to look at her as he fell back onto the sofa to pull on his boots.

"Go?" she echoed. "Like… _go_?" He had just come back from a job! And he was leaving again?

"Yeah," he told her as he stood back up. "I'm sorry that I have to cut our night short. This should only take a few days…"

"Dean, wait."

"Peyton, I don't have time to talk to you about this. I have to go," he told her sternly. "I'll… I'll call you later," he said, dismissing her quickly, knowing full well that an argument would ensue if he stuck around.

After his last trip she'd began asking questions that he was not ready to answer and he just did not want to have to dodge those questions again. He wasn't sure he could resist telling her the entire truth if she began her inquiries.

So with a kiss to her cheek, he made his leave with a bemused Peyton staring after him.

But she wasn't going to give up that easily.

She was not letting him leave town again before she got answers. This time she was going to find out what it was he was leaving for.

Even if it cost her their relationship.

---

At Lucas', Peyton parked behind Dean's car in an effort to keep him from leaving. At least for the time being. Making her way up the sidewalk and into the house, she found Dean in the living room, stuffing clothes into his duffel.

Pausing in the archway that led into the living room, she asked, "So, where to now?"

Dean paused in his task, a rolled up shirt in his hands as he turned to her, asking, "What are you doing here, Peyton?"

"I had to know where you were going and what you're doing, Dean," she told him as she inched her way into the living room. She noted that all of the linens were folded and stacked neatly on the sofa. Meanwhile his clothes--which she assumed he'd pulled out of the dryer, if their wrinkles were any indication--lay in a crumpled heap at his feet on the floor.

"I'm going to New Orleans," he answered quickly, not stopping his packing. "But I can't tell you what I'm doing."

He couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

As he strode to the bathroom for his toiletries, she asked, "Can't you tell me what you're doing? After everything… don't you trust me?"

Walking out of the bathroom, he told her, "You know I trust you, Peyton. I've never trusted any one person more."

"Then why? Why won't you tell me what's going on?" She watched as he stuffed his shaving bag into his duffel. "You aren't doing something illegal, are you?"

Dean remained silent for a few moments, zipping his bag now that it was completely packed. She was not going to let up. They were going to have this conversation whether he wanted it or not. Lifting his head to look at her, he begged, "Peyton, please let it go. I don't want to lie to you."

"Then, don't. You've done enough of that already," she snipped, folding her arms across her chest. She didn't care what he did or why he felt that he had to hide what he did from her. It couldn't possibly be that bad.

Unless he was a hitman or something.

She wanted to laugh at the thought. She couldn't even picture Dean holding a gun much less killing other people. Surely her mind was just running off with the most ludicrous thoughts that she couldn't conjure up.

"I won't refute that."

"It doesn't pay to. I know that you haven't been honest with me."

"Oh, like you have?" he bit back. They were mere feet away from one another but they might as well be hundreds of miles apart for all the space between them at the moment. _This was it_, Dean told himself. This was the moment everything changed. It was either tell her or let her go and contemplating the latter at this point in time was not an option. "Up until a few days ago I didn't know that you and Lucas were anything but friends."

"That has nothing to do with this, Dean, and you know it. You've been weaving in and out of my life all summer and you're still this stranger to me, more or less."

"If I'm still a stranger to you what the hell are you doing here? Why bother?" he asked, annoyed. He was more annoyed with himself than with her, though. What she was saying was true. He would open up to her, but there were barriers to what he told her.

He _was _still a stranger to her. And he wanted to be more than that.

"Because I don't want you to be just some stranger, dumbass! I want to know who you are. Who you _really _are! I think I deserve that much."

Dean couldn't deny that, yes, she deserved the truth. The whole truth. Not his modified version of it. Even though he wanted to protect her, his aversion to telling her the deep roots of his past had more to do with him than her.

It wasn't about protecting Peyton and keeping her safe from the things that go bump in the night.

It was about protecting himself.

He didn't want to see her look at him like some escaped mental patient when he told her what had happened to his mother. He had seen the looks that his father received and he couldn't bear for Peyton to look at him like that.

Outside his family's close circle of friends and those that helped them during their times of need, they'd never told another living soul what had happened that night. Most believed that the wiring in their house had gone faulty leading to the fire that took his mother's life.

No one knew the truth. If they had they'd probably send all the Winchester men to the looney bin.

"It's not that simple," he interrupted, walking past her into the kitchen. "My life… what I haven't told you… it's not just about me…" He trailed off turning back to face her.

"This is about your family, right? That's why you're not with them?"

He nodded his head slowly. _If she only knew_…

"My family is the most important thing to me. No matter how dysfunctional we are and even though we butt heads over every little thing, I still love my father and brother. They're all I have left. And what I do… I do to protect them."

"Dean, I'm not following. What does your problems with your father and brother have to do with us?"

Dean moved around the kitchen, until he was at the front door, staring outside as the sun began to set. "It has everything to do with us, Peyton. The reason why I'm here… the reason why I haven't been completely honest with you… they're the reason."

"Why?"

He didn't look at her as he continued. He couldn't bear to. He'd made the split second decision to tell her, risking their relationship over being brutally honest, like she deserved.

"There are things in my life--in my past--that you might not understand. My dad, Sam and I--we made a promise to one another that none of us would never tell anyone else what we do. It's our business. Our burden. Our… _vendetta_. No one else's. When I tell you… it makes you a part of this."

"Okay," she conceded even though she had no idea what she was conceding to.

"No! It's not okay!" He yelled, his body shaking with contempt. He had never wanted to bring her into his messy life yet here they were. But what did he expect? Did he honestly think that he could build a relationship with Peyton based on lies?

"I didn't want you involved. I still don't yet here we are," he scoffed. "When I left the first time, I had promised that I was gone for good. I told myself that I'd do my job and move on just as I had done all the times before. But you… you were so adamant. You wouldn't get out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes there you were, calling me back. I hated it. I still hate it. I hate how you make me feel."

There weren't many times that she had seen Dean's temper flare. It was a new sight for her, but if she really wanted to know how Dean felt about her, this was her chance. She had to push a little bit more. "How's that?" she quipped.

"Wanted… and… and _needed_," he confessed, his words shaky and labored. He ran a hand across his face as he let out a deep, frustrated breath. He hadn't been needed by someone in a very long time. Even though the feeling was a burden to him on one hand, on the other it was comforting to be needed. And wanted? Well, that was something else entirely. "When I'm with you I don't feel like I'm just here. I feel like I'm actually living and I haven't felt like that for as long as I can remember."

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"There's so much wrong with that, Peyton. What I do can put you in danger. It can put you in the middle of a war that you have no business being a part of."

Peyton furrowed her brows. "What are you talking about?" Even as she asked the question, she knew deep down that she really didn't want the answer.

"I'm talking about the things that you watch movies about, the things that you're told are real, but chock up to myths and fairytales. Demons, ghosts, vampires…." Dean paused, scratching his head. "Well… I don't know about the vampires… because… I've never come face to face with one… but that's not the point. My life's mission is to kill as many as I can."

To say that was the last thing she'd expected would be an understatement. "But… _why_?" He had yet to give her a reason to all his incessant rambling over the last twenty minutes. She needed a solid answer and she needed it soon. She needed it _now_.

Dean turned around, pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. Rubbing the back of his neck, he heard the door creak open a few moments later signaling that Peyton had joined him. Sitting down on the steps, he told her, "I wasn't completely honest with you about my mother. But what you need to understand… why I didn't tell you before… what I _couldn't _tell you before… she was murdered but not by anything human."

Silence was supposed to be telling, wasn't it? He turned to gauge her reaction as she sat down beside him. The hand that she placed on his thigh helped comfort him. A little.

At least she hadn't screamed and ran. That, at least, was a good sign that she didn't find him to be some kind of crackerjack.

"Can you tell me what happened?" When he turned to pierce her with a pair of vulnerable eyes, she rephrased herself. "_Will _you tell me what happened?"

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, hesitant to forge on. He had never told anyone the story of the night that changed his family's life and to tell someone that he… that he cared about… was new territory.

Peyton linked her fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's your story, Dean. Take your time. I won't push."

"I'm okay," he insisted. "I just… I've never told this to anyone."

"No one?" she questioned, still skeptical.

"No one," he said with conviction, bringing their joined hands to his mouth to brush his lips across the top of her hand. "I was only four when it happened," he began. "Sam was still a baby. I remember kissing him goodnight and then my dad carrying me off to bed. When I woke up, I could hear him yelling. Sam was crying and I could smell the smoke and feel the heat from the fire… I ran down the hall to Sam's room, then Dad put him in my arms and told me to take him outside."

"Dean…" Peyton sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She knew that was futile at this point, but what else was she supposed to say. His mother burned to death on the ceiling of his brother's nursery. What more could she say?

"After my mother was killed… I had to grow up really fast and things were never the same. Ever since that night my dad has been on a quest to find the demon that killed her. He raised Sam and I to be hunters. Sam ran off to school to get away from it all, but me… I did whatever dad wanted." Shaking his head, he dropped his eyes to stare at the cracks in the cement at his feet. "You probably think I'm a basket case."

"No, Dean, I don't think you're a basket case. If you believe that this is true then I believe you."

"You do?" he asked, looking at her once again.

"Of course. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"Honestly, Peyton? No. No, I didn't think you would. It's not something easily swallowed. I've lived with this all my life and I still have trouble believing that this is my everyday reality."

"I came here for the truth. I needed to know what you were doing when you left and now that I do everything about you makes so much more sense."

"I was never going to tell you," he admitted, staring up at the sky, realizing that he was going to have to leave soon to get on the road to New Orleans.

Peyton wrapped her arms around his middle, unwillingly to let him go. "I know."

"This is my burden. It shouldn't be yours, too."

Peyton's head shot up, her eyes meeting his. "That's what being in a relationship is, Dean. Sharing our demons with one another…," she balked.

"Interesting word choice," he teased, eager to lighten the mood.

Peyton smiled in reply. "You didn't have to tell me, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. He could've construed some kind of lie if he had really wanted to. But he didn't want to. It was tiring lying to her and keeping her in the dark about his life. At least she knew everything now.

"So, why did you?"

"Because I couldn't lie to you anymore."

---

A half-hour later, Dean told Peyton that he needed to go as he pushed himself to his feet. He helped her to hers, allowing her to take his hand to lead him back into the house.

Dean dropped her hand once they entered the kitchen, stalking into the living room.

"Let me come with you," Peyton said as he grabbed his duffel off the sofa.

Slinging his duffel over his shoulder, Dean shook his head, telling her, "Hell no."

"Why not?"

"I don't know what awaits me in New Orleans and there's no way in hell I'm putting you at the forefront of danger. I didn't tell you what I do so that we could be hunting buddies."

"I'm a big girl, Dean. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Peyton, but the answer's no. You aren't coming."

Peyton huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine."

"You can pout all you want. The answer's the same," Dean said matter of factly as he stormed past her and back outside.

"Okay," she relented, knowing arguing with him was futile. But there was another angle that she could work… "When you go on these jobs you normally stay in a hotel?" she asked, following him out of the house.

"I don't stay at the swankiest dives, but they're…." He turned around abruptly, eyes snapping up to meet hers. "What are you getting at?"

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, staring down at him from the porch.

"You're _not _coming, Peyton. End of discussion."

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Peyton began descending the steps. She crossed to Dean, wrapping her arms around his waist as she told him, "Come on, Dean. Think about it. You and me. Hotel room. _Danger_. You can't tell me that put in a dangerous situation it would turn you on."

Dean humphed, rolling his eyes. "Are you seriously using that argument?"

"I want to come."

Humor crept into his voice as he told her, "I know that wasn't to sound like it did."

Peyton shook her head, grinning wickedly, "No, it was."

"And you say _I'm _incorrigible!" He stared down at Peyton's expectant face and he couldn't turn her away. Truth was, he didn't really want to leave her anyhow. When he was away all he did was think about her anyway. "Okay. _Fine_. Fine! You can come," he complied as Peyton squealed in delight.

"Thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed with glee.

"But one sign of danger and your ass will be on a bus back to Tree Hill. Got it?"

She bobbed her head in understanding. "Got it. But… I don't have any clothes. I'll have to go home and pack a bag."

Dean checked his watch, huffing, "You've got twenty minutes."

Watching Peyton run off to her car, Dean was met with the realization that hunting would be the last thing on his mind with Peyton tagging along.

Sighing, he stalked to his car, pushing his duffel into the back seat.

It was going to be a long couple of days.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Come What May  
Fandom: One Tree Hill/Supernatural  
Genres: Angst, Romance, Crossover  
Pairing: Dean/Peyton  
Spoilers: One Tree Hill, "The Leaver's Dance"; Pre-Supernatural  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't 'em. Wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I did. The title comes from the Air Supply song of the same name. Air Supply, Cynthia Weil and Tom Snow own the song.  
Summary: This is how Dean and Peyton's love affair began. Prequel to Split Second. It isn't imperative that you read that to understand this, though.  
Author's Notes: Takes place before the Supernatural pilot and at the beginning of the summer following One Tree Hill's The Leaver's Dance. In this realm Cassie never existed and Jake never came back. Plus, Sam's still at Stanford and Brooke's off in California.  
Author's Notes (2): And here it is. The end. The final chapter. Finally! Thank you for all that reviewed this story and continued reading. This part is rather lengthy and is more Supernatural than One Tree Hill. Enjoy!

**Come What May: Chapter Eleven**

Peyton fumbled through Dean's box of cassette tapes, muttering under her breath as she fingered the labels.

"Speak, woman," Dean said, glancing at her. "What's your problem? You've been mumbling and grumbling to yourself for the past ten minutes. What gives?"

"Your cassette collection, Dean. It leaves much to be desired," Peyton whined. She liked the guitar rock just as much as he did. But she also liked variety. Preferred it, actually. And Dean's collection did not embody variety. Didn't even so much as hint at it.

"What's wrong with my cassette collection?"

"They're. _Cassette_. Tapes. Join the 21st century, why don't you? You've heard of a CD player, haven't you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. This was why girls weren't allowed on hunting trips. They whined and complained and acted… _girly_. "I don't complain about your angry girl music so stop complaining about mine. Besides, you're the one that wanted to tag along, remember?"

Peyton pushed the box back onto floor as she told, "Yeah, I remember. And I figured that you'd have better car music. Metallica? Megadeth? Black Sabbath? Dean… seriously, dude?"

Eyes snapping to her he asked, shocked and a little appalled, "Did you just called me dude?"

Peyton knitted her brows as she adjusted the air conditioning vents away from herself. "Yeah, so?"

"Don't call me, dude."

"Come on, _dude._"

Dean glanced at her, huffing, "Okay, now you're just abusing the word and it's doing a stellar job of turning me on so… Stop it!"

Peyton laughed as her head fell back against the headrest. "How long before we get there?"

"A while. We'll probably stop in Georgia for the night," he looked at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, please. Is that all you think about?"

"Besides food? Uh… yes."

They both giggled as Peyton slid across the seat closer to him. "Haley and Lucas are going to freak when they find out that I left with you."

"They'll just be jealous that they couldn't tag along," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. "I am glad that you came."

"I'm glad that you let me." Reaching forward toward the center controls, Peyton lowered the air conditioner as she asked him, "Is it really dangerous?"

"Sometimes. Depends on what we're dealing with."

"Have you ever gotten hurt?"

"A few times," he said vaguely.

"Be honest."

Dean sighed. He shouldn't be uncomfortable talking about his past exploits with Peyton but for some reason he was. She was interested in what he did. He should be thankful and not looking the gift horse in the mouth.

But why couldn't she ask about some of the things he'd killed rather the things that had weakened him?

"Once… I was lit on fire by an apparition." Hearing Peyton's quick intake of breath, he added, "But it was _kinda _my fault. I mean, I was the idiot with the lighter."

"You're saying that a ghost set you on fire?"

"Well, when you say it like that…."

Peyton sat upright. "Dean. I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you and you're not holding up your end."

He kept his attention on the road which was a hard task given Peyton's close proximity. "It was my first hunt by myself," he began to explain. "I was used to having my dad or Sam around to lend a hand. Trying to do everything by myself was something new for me. "

"Were you badly burned?"

"Nah. Lucky for me the ghost was a suck shot," he tried to joke. His laughter diminished when Peyton clawed her fingernails into his thigh. "_Owowowow_," he whined.

"That's not funny."

"Obviously, you had to be there." Wrinkling his nose, at her he told her, "You're no fun," rubbing his hand across his thigh and sending a glare in her direction as he exited the interstate. "That shit hurt, Peyton!"

"It wasn't supposed to tickle," she told him, slightly amused by his pain. When she'd noticed that they had turned off, she asked, "What are we doing?"

"We're getting a hotel."

"Why?"

"Because I'm tired of driving."

Peyton chewed on her lip, then stated flatly, "I can drive."

Dean slammed on the brakes at the stop sign at the end of the off ramp. "Oh, sweetheart, I don't think so." Since his dad had passed the Impala on to him, no one had driven it. Ever. Not by his own accordance, anyway. Sam had driven it a time or two, but that was only when he and his dad had been teaching his younger sibling how to drive.

"Why not? And don't call me sweetheart. It sounds so fake coming out of your mouth."

"No one drives my car. No one. Not even _you_."

"Please?" she continued to beg as Dean made a left turn, scanning the sides of the road for a motel with reasonable rates.

"No," he told her again. "Ah, there we go," he said, pulling into the Luxury Inn.

"Why not?" she asked as Dean pulled into a parking space then threw the car into park.

Dean switched off the car, pulling his keys from the ignition as he turned to tell her, "It's _my _car."

Peyton shrugged. "You drive my car."

Dean ground his teeth. Why were they talking about driving privileges again? "Yeah, but that's different."

She wanted to laugh. "How so?"

He locked his eyes on the flashing vacancy sign so that he didn't have to look at her as he said, "Because you're a girl."

"And that's a newsflash for you? I've been a girl from the beginning, Einstein. Why's it a problem now?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not a problem. I'm just saying that no one drives my car. Besides I've seen the way you drive," he said, pushing open the door to climb out of the car.

"I can't believe you have the audacity to ridicule my driving. He who doesn't drive slower than eighty!" she argued back as she scrambled out of the car.

"Well, you won't ever get anywhere if you drive the speed limit," he scoffed as he grabbed their bags from the backseat, closing the door shut behind himself. Dean tossed her bag at her as he asked, "Can we stop talking about this now?"

"That depends…," she said as she pulled the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. "Can I drive your car?"

Dean smiled as he nodded his head. "Uh, let me think… no," he told her, leading the way into the office.

---

"Why New Orleans?"

Dean glanced up at Peyton from his perusal of the New Orleans papers as he searched for any auspicious reports. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Peyton stood at the window, staring out at the busy street below. They'd only been in New Orleans two hours and already Dean had slipped into investigative mode.

They were staying at right on Bourbon Street. She wondered if it was always this busy during the summer. But considering this _was _The Big Easy, she assumed it was.

The city bustling below had caught her attention as Dean had settled onto the bed with a stack of newspapers. She ached to go out and explore the city but knew that Dean wouldn't let her go sightseeing alone. Plus, this was not a vacation as he'd reminded her a million times since they'd left Tree Hill. She should get a tattoo that said that. "You don't normally know what's going on when you go on a job?"

"Typically, no. I mean, I either find the jobs myself by looking through the papers or hearing about something on the news, but lately my dad's been text messaging me places that I should go--places that he can't go."

"Where's your dad now? Why didn't he come here?"

Dean didn't talk much about his father. He talked about Sam in length, but his dad? She couldn't help but wonder why that was. She knew from the way Dean spoke of the eldest Winchester that the two had a complex relationship but something also told her that it went much deeper than that.

Dean didn't answer for a few moments, consumed by his scroll through the news headlines. Finally, he answered, "He's in California hunting something else."

"Found anything?" Peyton asked, hopeful. She'd gone from being cooped up in a car to being cooped up in a hotel. Not that she was complaining because at least Dean was there to keep her company. Although, he wasn't as much fun when he was concentrated on his "work".

"Here's something," Dean said as an article leapt up at him. "Seems that someone tried to break into the tomb of Marie Laveau, the old Voodoo Queen."

"Voodoo? Like potions and juju and stuff like that?" she asked, her interest suddenly piqued. She walked away from the window to sit beside him on the bed.

"Something like that," he told her as his eyes reined in on a series of mysterious deaths. "Okay, I think this is it," he said, jumping off the bed in a flurry.

"That's good, right?"

Dean shook his head. "Not necessarily. Someone broke in and stole Marie's spell book. According to this, which refers to the legend and folklore, it contained powerful incantations and spells."

Peyton stared up at Dean who continued to mull over the newspaper. "Okay, so why the concern with some old voodoo woman's book?"

Dean shook his head as he tossed the paper down onto the dresser. Turning back to Peyton, he told her, "I don't know, but that's what we're going to find out. Since the book was stolen there've been a series of mysterious deaths."

Peyton scooted to the edge of the bed, staring at him, goosebumps pebbling her arms as she asked, "How mysterious?"

"Their hearts were missing," Dean told her, trying to smile as an alarmed look washed across Peyton's face. A second later he told her, "Come on. Grab your jacket."

"Why?" she asked, bolting to her feet, even as Dean moved toward the door.

"We're going out."

---

"So when you said _out _I expected you meant to like dinner or something," Peyton told him as they climbed the steps to the public library.

"We aren't here on vacation, Peyton. This is a job."

"So you keep reminding me. You know, if this is a job then you shouldn't be reaping any benefits," she snapped at him as they reached the top landing.

"Hey, I don't remember you pushing me away," he smirked as he reached for the door handle. "In fact, if I remember quickly you tore off _my _clothes."

As Dean held open the door, Peyton murmured to herself, "Why am I always attracted to the charming ass holes?" She lead Dean through the doors, stopping quickly as her eyes scanned the various stacks of books, gasping, "Lucas would _die _in here."

Dean grabbed her by her shirtsleeve, pointing to a room beyond the stacks to their right. "Come on," he said, dragging her through the rows of book shelves in the direction of the computer room.

"What are we doing?" Peyton asked as Dean settled at a computer.

"Research," he answered vaguely. She stood beside him as he settled at the computer, hovering over him as he signed his name on the sign in sheet. _Jack Black_.

"Why didn't you just put…?"

"That's not important," he told her quickly, knowing that she was going to want an answer as to why he didn't use his real name. Using aliases had become part of the job and he was used to it. He only used his real name when absolutely necessary.

Peyton let an explanation slide for the time being. But she would find out why he didn't sign his own name. If Dean Winchester was in fact his name.

Yeah, like now was the time to debate Dean's honesty. _While they were in Louisiana! _

"What are we researching?"

Dean regarded her with wide eyes and a mocking laugh. "_We_?_"_

"Well, I'm here aren't I?"

Dean focused on the computer screen, typing as he told her, "Well, that wasn't by my choice." When she flicked his ear, he snapped his head up at her. "What'd you do that for?"

"That was rude. You should be thankful that I'm here."

"I should?" he frowned.

"Yes."

Dean sighed, taking her off-guard when he grabbed her hips, pulling her onto his lap. "I am glad you're here, Peyton. I just don't like that you're here. Does that make sense?" He wanted her with him, but at the same time he wanted her safe at home in Tree Hill. He wasn't sure if he could concentrate on the case at hand and have to worry about her safety as well.

Plus, it was New Orleans. Anything could happen here.

"Not really, but I understand," she said with a nod of her head. "I just… I want to be with you."

"I know you do and I'm glad, but we're not Mulder and Scully. This is not going to be a regular thing you tagging along on my jobs."

"Why not?" she snapped. She figured he'd welcome the company. Of course, these trips with him would not become a regular thing since she would be returning to school soon. And on that thought, she groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do was think about school right now.

"_Because_."

"Because is not an answer," she retaliated.

"Because I worry less when you're in Tree Hill. At least I know Lucas is there to take care of you," he said, stumbling over his own words. He was still getting used to the fact that Lucas and Peyton shared a past. But because they were all friends, Dean didn't want their past to interfere with his relationships with both of them. "Whereas if something were to happen to me here, there'd be no one," he carried on.

"Hey," Peyton interjected, cupping his face in her palms. "_Nothing _is going to happen to you. Don't you even start talking like that."

Hearing the clearing of a throat somewhere behind them, both Dean and Peyton looked behind them, realizing that they weren't alone in the small computer room. "Sorry," Peyton apologized, sliding off Dean's lap into the chair beside him. She pointed at the computer. "Get to work."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sit here and watch you," she grinned, wondering if he even knew how to surf the internet. The thought amused her, causing her to giggle aloud.

Dean peered at her wearily, asking, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she insisted with a shake of her head.

"Girls. I swear," Dean muttered under his breath, returning his attention to the computer screen and his impending internet search.

Twenty minutes later as Peyton was about to fall sleep from boredom, Dean exclaimed, "I think I found something."

"What?" she asked as he scrolled through a website dedicated to the paranormal and voodoo in New Orleans.

"Gimme a second, will ya?" Dean said, skimming over the contents of the web page for any useful information. Pausing, he added, "Okay. Here were go. New Orleans was home to the Voodoo Queen, as they called her back in the 1800s, Marie Laveau. She blended voodoo with her Catholic heritage using Holy water and candles for rituals," he read off the page. Turning away from the screen, he added, "She was the first of two. I remember this now. After she died, her daughter took her place."

"And how do you know this exactly?"

"_Please_! We would research the occult and the paranormal like crazy when I was younger. Dad would have Sam and I pouring over books about anything and everything supernatural," he explained.

"You think these murders have anything to do with this voodoo woman?"

"I can't be sure. I mean, the Queen _is _a legend around these parts. Plus, her spell book was taken. It has to be all linked somehow."

"But the missing hearts? Is that a typical trade in voodoo?"

Dumbfounded, Dean spat out, "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"You were trained to a warrior, were you not?"

"You gonna throw that back in my face every time I don't have an answer for you?"

Rolling her eyes, Peyton gestured to the computer. "What else does it say about her? Maybe it'll give us some more incite." Peyton pushed her chair closer, leaning toward the screen so that she could read the web page as well.

"All it says, Peyton, is that she was the Voodoo Queen back in her heyday, which we already know. She was a hairdresser by trade which allowed her inside the confines of the New Orleans elite," Dean told her as he read off the browser. "It says that she hexed a few of them. The murders seem don't seem like her M.O, though. The people that have died weren't from well-known families and they don't have anything in common from what I've read." Shaking his head, Dean continued his perusal saying, "It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

"Marie was more concerned with love spells than anything else."

Personally, Dean thought it was all just a bunch of hocus pocus. Voodoo queens? Come on! Did the Cajuns really believe this shit? But then again, who really believed half the shit that he had beared witness to over the years? It was a high possibility that there was truth to the legend. No matter how hokey it all sounded.

"So this may not be her, then?"

Dean continued to read as he said, "Not necessarily. Listen to this. Many believe that the Queen returned on St. John's Eve to hold court over a spectacular voodoo ritual."

Peyton eyed Dean skeptically as he clicked out of the page and bolted to his feet. "What are you thinking? Dean?"

"I'm thinking that someone's cooking up some hoodoo. We just have to find out who it is."

Dean quickly bolted to his feet, then stalked out of the room with Peyton lagging behind, exclaiming, "What did you just say?" as she followed him out.

---

"Where the hell are we, Dean?" Peyton asked as the car pulled to a stop in a nest of trees. Wearily, Peyton pushed open her door, stepping outside, slapping at the mosquitoes that buzzed around her. "Great. I'm sure to catch the West Nile now that we're in the swamps," she muttered as Dean made his way to the rear of the car.

"If we're gonna find out what happened to those dead people, we have to go at this thing from every angle. Now, the guy I talked to this afternoon said that Madame Lunette is the latest practioner of the voodoo. She lives through those trees," he said, pointing to the brushes where the front of the Impala was pointed.

"So, what? We just storm in there and demand answers?" she asked, annoyed when she didn't receive an immediate answer. "Dean… what are you doing back there?" she asked, hearing clinging and clattering coming from around the back of the car.

When she walked back to meet him, her eyes widened at the massive amount of weaponry in his trunk. "Whoa," was all she could say.

It was all becoming too real to her now. This was actually Dean's life. This… _crusader _was really who Dean was. Although, she had yet to see any evidence of him proving her wrong in the paranormal front. It wasn't that she didn't believe him because she did. She was just the seeing-is-believing kind of girl.

Reaching into the trunk, she grabbed the first weapon she saw which happened to be one of Dean's pistols. She pointed it at him, eyes darkening, when he snatched the gun away from her. "Honey, that's not a play toy," he told her, replacing the gun to it's rightful place. "Besides, it's loaded. You could shoot me."

"And that'd be a bad thing, right?" Dean took a moment to smile at her, before returning to his scan of the trunk. "Do you actually use all this stuff?"

"You'd be amazed at what comes in handy," he sighed, shifting through his weapons. What was good protection against a voodoo woman? Somehow he doubted the rock salt would do much good. Grabbing his pistol, he cocked it to make sure that it was loaded, then stuffed it at the back of his pants, making sure that it was hidden behind his shirttail.

"Crafty, aren't you?" Peyton asked as he slammed the trunk shut.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing her hand.

---

"Well, that was a waste," Dean muttered, slamming his keys down on the dresser.

"You're being too hard on yourself. How were you to know that Madame Lunette was a _psychic _and not some psycho voodooist?" Peyton offered, closing the door behind herself.

Dean had been beating himself up over the bogus lead since they had left Madame Lunette's cabin. His "source" hadn't been that resourceful since as it turned out Madame Lunette was nothing but your regular run of the mill Miss Cleo. Except with a Louisiana accent.

"I just hate being pulled in the wrong direction," he complained, throwing himself down on the bed. He felt the bed dip a few moments later when Peyton curled up beside him.

"Then, tomorrow you'll go out and find something more concrete."

Wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer, Dean sighed, whispering, "You know, I'm getting used to this whole supportive girlfriend thing. I'm going to be at a loss when you're not around to pump my ego."

Silence stretched between them for what seemed like a millennia until Peyton murmured, "You're not going anywhere yet so let's just cross that bridge whenever we come to it, hmm?"

"Yeah, you're probably right," he breathed heavily.

"Of course I am," she said, throwing her legs over his to straddle his waist. "And right now I'm not interested in talking anymore," Peyton told him before her mouth crashed against his.

---

Later that night Dean and Peyton lay curled up in bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around them. "You're quiet," Peyton whispered, interrupting the silence that lingered between them.

"Sorry," Dean apologized, running his hand across her back. "Just… thinking," he murmured through into the dark, encompassed by thoughts of the past few days.

Peyton veered her head back asking, "About what?"

"My dad, mostly."

"Uh… okay."

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "No… I mean… being here with you it makes me think about later on. The future and what comes after we find this demon."

Peyton felt her eyes moisten. "You think that far ahead?"

"Well… yeah. I'm twenty-six, Peyton. I don't want to do this forever. I want to be normal. I want to settle somewhere, get married, have kids. I want all that. It's what my parents had before…"

"… before your mother's death?" she offered, knowing that even though his mother had been gone after twenty years it was still a sore subject for him. All the times they had talked about her, she could see the pain in his eyes and hear the sadness in his voice. Even after all this time he was still grieving in the same respect that she still grieved her own mother.

The likeness between them was uncanny to a scary degree, she thought wryly.

"They were happy. _We _were happy. We were normal… and then… and then we weren't," he said, adding the latter part in barely a whisper.

"You can be normal again, Dean. You _will _be normal again," Peyton assured him.

Dean liked that she was so optimistic. He, however, wasn't so much. He knew what the stakes were. There was a demon out there waiting to be brought down. But chances were that it wouldn't end with that one. Chances were that the fight only started with the fire demon that had succeeded in tearing his family apart.

But he didn't dare tell Peyton that. He may have brought her into the fold, but this wasn't her fight and he wouldn't her be a part of it.

"I only wished that I could be as sure as you, Peyton."

Peyton sat up abruptly hugging the sheet to her chest as she told him, "You know I really hate your woe is me attitude, Dean." She backed against the headboard, pushing her hair behind her ears as Dean turned on his side toward her.

Scoffing, he said, "Like you're one to talk, Peyton! You're not exactly Miss Ray of Sunshine, you know. You have more issues than… a magazine with a lot of issues!"

"Yeah, well… maybe you're right. Maybe I do have a lot of issues."

"There ain't no _maybe _to it, sweetheart."

"At least I own up to my issues. You bury them and pretend they don't exist. If the situation with Ellie has taught me anything it's that our worlds are always thrown into upheaval. You can either let it consume you or you can stand up, dust yourself off and move on. But you're not moving on, Dean. You're standing in the same position, _refusing _to move forward."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Peyton."

"No? What about Sam?"

Dean sat up to face her. It was nice to know that they had gotten away from Tree Hill, but had brought their issues along for the road trip. They'd gone from snuggling to arguing.

About _Sam_!

And his issues. He didn't even have issues!

Okay. Maybe he did have issues, but he did not have a woe-is-me attitude.

_Did he?_

"You whine about not speaking to your brother but have you picked up the phone at least once to call him?" When Dean looked away, she knew that he wasn't even going to try to deny it.

"He left. Why should _I _be the one to call?"

"You're the older brother. Don't you think it's your place to make the first call? You know, Sam probably misses you as much as you miss him."

"Somehow I doubt that he does. You know, it ain't like he'd pick up the phone if I called anyway. And, hey, let's get one thing straight. I do _not _miss him."

That was a lie, of course. He did miss his brother. But would he admit it? Hell no. He missed his dad, too, but he sure as hell wasn't going to admit to that, either.

"Why because you're too much of a man to miss your baby brother?" Grabbing the pillow from behind her back, she hit him over the head with it. "Get over it, already!"

"Hey! Stop that!" he yelled when she began continuously knocking him in the head with the feathered pillow.

"No!" Peyton said, continuing her attack.

"I'm warning you…"

Peyton paused for a second to ask, "What're you gonna do? Huh, Winchester?" Then, she hit him once more.

The words had barely escaped her mouth before she found herself flat on her back, Dean hovering above her. Holding her wrists above her head, Dean leaned in close, whispering, "In all fairness, I _did _warn you."

"So you did…," Peyton agreed, gasping for air as he ground his hips into her. A pleasured groan escaped her lips like they hadn't spent the last fifteen minutes squabbling. Most of their fevered lovemaking sessions had come on the heels of an argument. It was their idea of foreplay.

"I'm beginning to rather arguing with you," he said breathlessly as they tumbled toward ecstasy once again.

---

Dean had ventured out by himself the following morning, leaving Peyton alone in the hotel room to catch up on her sleep.

They hadn't gotten much rest the night before between their long conversations-slash-arguments and even longer romps through the sheets. He hadn't been wrong when he'd told himself that this trip would be different.

Peyton knew the truth now. He no longer had to keep anything from her and that openness had brought them closer together. They still annoyed one another now and again, but Dean couldn't picture making the trip to New Orleans without her.

He had stood watching her for a good five minutes, debating with himself rather or not to wake her up, but in the end he had left her to her snoring.

Besides, he'd wanted to do some investigating by himself.

After visiting numerous sources and members of the victims' families, Dean found himself at the cemetery that the Queen was buried in.

He was no closer to finding the culprit responsible for the mysterious deaths and the heart snatching.

But he would admit that he was a _tad _distracted.

Maybe a few hours away from Peyton would get his mind on the right track and focused on what was important.

Hunting.

---

Peyton leapt off the bed the moment she heard the key in the lock, breathing a sigh of relief when Dean stepped through the door, greeting her with a wide smile and, "Hey! You're up!"

Who'd he think she was? Yogi Bear? It was five o'clock in the afternoon! Of course she'd be awake.

"That's all I get?" she snapped, annoyed that his greeting hadn't been accompanied with an explanation on where he'd been all day. He had left her all day long to do God knows what! He could've at least left her note or called. He hadn't even bothered to call!

"Right, right. Stupid me. I almost forgot…," he said, crossing the room to greet her more properly.

"That's not what I was talking about," she said, breaking off their kiss with a swift shove to his chest that sent him ricocheting backward onto the mattress.

Laughing, Dean apologized, "I'm sorry I left you."

"So then why did you?"

"I needed to do some work by myself. It's easier for me to investigate without you being there," he explained, closing his eyes immediately, knowing that Peyton was going to take his words out of context.

And, of course, she didn't disappoint, spatting, "So I'm in your way?"

Dean's head snapped up to meet hers, telling her, "Now you know that's not what I meant." Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down beside him on the bed. "I didn't just dawdle while I was out, you know. I managed to find out some things of importance."

Peyton crossed her arms, looking away, clearly telling him that she was not interested in hearing what he'd uncovered. But he told her anyway.

"I found the link between all the victims. They had all paid visit to the latest voodoo practioner here in New Orleans whose name is not Madame Lunette. That should've been my first clue. How many voodoo women are Madame's? Anyway, apparently, Lady Guinevere worked some mojo on each of them."

"What'd she do?"

"Glad you asked that. Love spells."

"Love spells?"

"Not just any love spells, either. The _Queen's _love spells."

All the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, finally. "So this Lady Guinevere broke into the Queen's tomb for a book of spells?"

"Yes, but here's the kicker," Dean continued, so excited that he had to stand up. "The Queen was buried with her book so that no one could copy her work. Before she died she'd passed on all her knowledge to her daughter who took her place but not before chronicling all her secrets in her book. But it seems that Lady Guinevere's voodoo is a lot darker than the Queen's ever was. She disappeared a few days ago, just following the last murder. Now, no one has seen her, but there has been a black cat loitering around her shop."

Peyton stared at her boyfriend questiongly, wondering if he'd lost his head somewhere between Tree Hill and New Orleans. "A _cat_? That's raising some red flags? Dean, come on. Be serious. What's a stupid cat got to do with anything?"

"Well, in some tales witches, voodooists and the like were believed to have the ability to transform into animals. A ritual was involved, of course, but in some instances a dabbler in the occult was able to change their appearance and take on animal shape."

"Okay, what are you going with this?"

"I think that Guinevere is able to transform into a cat."

"Okay, do you know how crazy you sound?" Peyton asked him.

"Believe me I know how it sounds. But I told you, Peyton, that there were things that you wouldn't understand."

"I'm just not used to all this… _stuff_. I'm having trouble believing that a woman can transform herself into a cat. It's just too Harry Potter for me."

"Welcome to my world," Dean sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"But what's the spell book stealing and the cat transformation got to do with the missing hearts?"

Dean looked over at her, murmuring, "That's what I have yet to figure out."

---

Peyton kept close behind Dean, not enjoying the fact that they were tiptoeing through a cemetery in the middle of the night. "What are we doing here again?" she whispered, keeping a tight hold on Dean's jacket.

"We're looking for the blasted cat," Dean told her, shining his flashlight looking for any signs of the animal. "And why are you whispering? Scared we wake the dead?"

"No. Well… yeah," she said, a little sheepishly as Dean spun around to face her.

"They're not gonna jump out and attack you. At least I don't think they will," he said, adding the latter under his breath as he resumed their hunt for the mysterious black cat.

"Dean, we've combed over every inch of this cemetery and it's not here."

"I know," he exclaimed as they wound up back at the gated entrance. "I thought maybe that it would return to the Queen's tomb, but… I guess not," Dean said, leading the way back to his car.

As Peyton circled the car to the passenger side, she told him, "Maybe you're overlooking something. Maybe you need to take a step back and go back over everything that you have and look at it from another angle."

---

Peyton was still asleep when she heard the door open and then slam shut, the loud smack of the door stirring her from sleep, followed by Dean's less than quiet voice as he spoke on the phone.

Lifting her head, she saw that he was deep in conversation, sitting at the small breakfast table by the window, writing something down. "Thanks," was all he mumbled into his phone, snapping it shut. Noticing her, he said, "Hey. You're awake."

"Now I am no thanks to your door slamming and big mouth," she said, smiling at him despite her snappy morning disposition. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since early. I couldn't really sleep. I went back over everything that we'd learned about the queen and then I went and did some research on Lady Guinevere."

"And did you find anything?" Peyton asked, trying to stifle a yawn as Dean came to sit down beside her.

"Actually, I did. It seems we're not the only ones curious about the Queen. Lady Guinevere's been researching for her the past few years. More recently she's been dabbling with the dark arts and I found this in her trashcan," Dean said, pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket to hand to Peyton.

"You went rummaging through the woman's trash?" she asked, plugging her nose after getting a whiff of his vile smell.

"Her trash is our pay dirt," he said, pointing to the torn out incantation that he'd found. "This is ritual to summon a spirit."

"And you're telling me this because…"

"That's what all of this has to do with. She's summoning the Queen's spirit to become more powerful."

"But she's a voodoo woman. Isn't she already powerful?"

Dean shook his head. "Doesn't matter how powerful she is or isn't. These paramours are always looking for ways to increase their strength, their power and their skill. Lady Guinevere has always aspired to be more powerful than the Queen but never succeeded. Until, that is, she got hold of the Queen's book."

"So we're back to the book."

Dean nodded, "We're back to the book. And I found what the hearts have to do with all of this."

"What's that?" Peyton asked, finally intrigued by her boyfriend's… _hobby_.

"They're part of the invoking spell. She's got to have five human hearts."

"Oh, that's just gross. But there's only been four murders, right?"

"Right."

"Which means she'll be looking for another victim."

"You catch on quick," Dean told her as he pushed himself to his feet, looking back at her wearily.

"So where does that leave us?"

Dean pointed at her, saying, "Funny you should ask…"

---

"Just for the record, Dean, I hate you. I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" Peyton stewed as they sat in the car a few blocks away from Lady Guinevere's shop.

"You've been saying that since we left the hotel," he reminded her. He liked it about as much as she did, but there was no one else. She had to be the one to seek the old woman's help. And he'd be there to save her. He wouldn't let her get hurt. "And I told you that nothing was going to happen."

"You said that, but don't hold it against me if I don't believe you!"

"I get that you're scared."

"Of course I'm scared, you nitwit! You're sending me into a shop with a grave robbing, cat transforming, heart stealing voodoo woman!"

"Now, when you say it like…."

Peyton's hand clamped over his mouth, warning him, "Don't you even finish that sentence! Or else I'll have that woman come out here and hex you so that you won't ever be able to use your tongue again." Dean's widened eyes caused her to back her hand away slowly. "Sorry. I'm a little high strung right now," she apologized.

"It's okay," he nodded, reaching across the front seat for her hand. "Hey, I swear to you I'll be in there before she can do anything to you."

"You better be," Peyton said, grabbing for the handle. "Here goes nothing."

---

Dean loitered outside Lady Guinevere's shop, watching as she and Peyton talked. So far so good, he thought, listening as Peyton repeated what he'd instructed her to say: that her boyfriend had just broken up with her and she wanted him back. Original, wasn't he?

Unfortunately, that plan was shot to hell when he heard the voodoo woman tell Peyton that she was lying. "Shit," he cursed before he began running for the door.

The woman shook her head, insisting, "No, no, no. He's leaving ya, but ya want him ta stay."

"Yes, it's true. He is leaving me. He said that what we had would only last throughout the summer, but that's as far as it would go. I don't want him to leave. Make him stay. _Please_."

Peyton watched as an evil smirk graced the woman's face. Peyton tried to remain calm as the woman grabbed her hand, slashing her palm with her fingernail. As she yelped, the old woman began chanting.

Worry began to grip her like a vise, but luckily Dean chose that moment to burst through the door, yelling, "Alright, voodoo bitch. Session's over." Looking at Peyton, he said, "You didn't pay her did you?"

Peyton showed him her hand, spatting, "She kinda took my payment in blood."

Pointing his gun at the old woman, he said, "Where's the book?"

"Wat book?"

"The Queen's book. Give us the goddamn book!" Dean yelled as Peyton made her way to stand behind him.

Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "Nice entrance, by the way. I like the kicking in of the door. It was very _Bad Boys _of you."

Dean nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the voodoo woman. "Thanks. It's always nice when your moves are appreciated. Even by your girlfriend who threatened to put a hex on you."

Peyton blushed. "I was upset. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're forgiven. If I was you and I was dating me… I'd want to put a hex on me, too or you know"

"Uh, Dean…," Peyton tapped her boyfriend's arm, jutting her head toward the voodoo woman where she was now glowing. And floating off the ground.

Had Peyton not been so consumed by the fact that the voodoo woman was glowing and floating she may have been of more help, but she was so entranced by the show that she didn't notice that her boyfriend had left her side and was making his way toward the voodoo woman.

The second Dean got close enough the light show came to an abrupt halt as the woman transformed into a black cat right there in front of him. "What the…?" he muttered as the cat meowed, then ran between his legs and out the door.

Snapping out of her daze, Peyton watched as Dean took off after the cat, taking that as her cue to look for the spell book.

Dean was under the impression that Lady Guinevere had the book tucked away in her shop. Peyton had disagreed, though, insisting that would be too obvious.

But Lady Guinevere obviously wasn't a clever voodooist since the book was sitting open on the desk in her office.

Meanwhile Dean was walking down the back alley, still in search of the voodoocatwoman. "Here, kitty, kitty," he prodded, his gun hoisted in front him. "I'm not gonna hurt you… but I might shoot ya," he continued to prod as he kicked aside trashcans and empty cardboard boxes in his search for the small creature. "You're a damn cat where the hell could you have disappeared to!"

And then he remembered that he'd left Peyton alone in the shop. "Damn!"

Dean ran at warp speed to get back to the shop, but Peyton nor Lady Guinevere were nowhere in sight.

Cursing under his breath, he stalked back to his car, hoping against hope that they were at the cemetery.

---

Peyton tried to the ignore the slice of the rope against the open wound on her palm as she struggled to free herself from her confines.

She couldn't see the voodoo woman anywhere, but she could smell incense or something like it burning nearby. She knew that they were back in the cemetery because she was lying in front of the Queen's tomb.

Candles burned around her accompanied with various oddities including five jars, four of them filled with human hearts. The last was empty and she could only guess that it was being saved for her.

For _her _heart.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft flick of a tongue against her cheek which was soon replaced by fingers caressing her cheek. _Feminine _fingers.

Opening her eyes she saw that it was the woman. Chills ran down her spine as the woman leaned close to her ear, whispering, "It be ova soon, der. Quick an' painful. Den ya be wit de angels."

Peyton kicked and moved as her shirt was torn open. She saw the blade from the knife as it inched it's way slowly to her skin, then she heard it.

Him.

_Dean_.

"This ain't gonna happen, Guinevere. You're not gonna do this."

"Fool," she laughed, stabbing the knife into the ground beside Peyton's head. Dean's eyes widened as she morphed into the cat once again.

This one was much bigger, though, and took the shape of a Panther.

The Panther snarled at him, but Dean didn't think twice about shooting. He began and didn't stop until he'd emptied the clip.

After the Panther had transformed back into the voodoo woman, Dean ran to Peyton's side, quickly untying her, pulling her into his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked even though he knew she wasn't.

She was far from okay.

And it was all his fault.

---

Dean was steadily stuffing his clothes into his duffel, his eyes shifting to the door, wondering when Peyton was going to return.

They hadn't talked much since the night before. After he'd burned the spell book to ensure that some other power hungry deity wouldn't follow in Guinevere's footsteps, he and Peyton had stuck around to answer whatever questions the cops may have had.

He'd done a service for the community, one of the officers had told him. Some service, though. He had almost sacrificed his girlfriend to a mad voodoo woman.

Yeah, he wished he could look at differently, but the only way he saw it was that he'd put his girlfriend in danger. It was his fault that Peyton had come so close to being slaughtered.

Her rightful place was back in Tree Hill. He should've never agreed to let her tag along. But he was so bending to her.

That had been his first mistake. He had let her too close. He had let himself get too close. He'd let Peyton into his heart and for that they had both suffered.

But she didn't have to continue to suffer. He may have put her in danger this time, but if he was good at anything, it was learning from his mistakes.

And this was one mistake that he wouldn't make twice.

Zipping his bag, he looked at the clock once more having given up on Peyton's return. He had just hoisted the duffel over his shoulder when the door opened and she stepped inside. "Going somewhere?" she asked, closing the door behind herself.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I was just going to put this in the car. I figured we may as well get on the road so that I can get you home."

"We have to talk about it, Dean. We have to talk about what happened."

"I'd rather we didn't."

"Dean…"

"_I _put you in danger. _I _almost got you killed."

"This isn't your fault, Dean. We couldn't have known what was going to happen."

Dropping his bag at his feet, he kicked it in frustration, yelling, "Don't do that!"

"Do what?" Peyton asked, confused.

"Protect me. Don't wipe everything away like it's all fine and dandy. It's not. I knew what the dangers were and still I let you come and I concocted that stupid ass plan… I shouldn't have ever let you…"

"Stop right there," Peyton demanded, stalking across the room toward him. "I am not some fucking porcelain doll. I bend. I break. I bleed. Just like you. Just like everyone else. I won't have you treating me like I'm this innocent little girl because I'm not. Sure, the last thing I expected was to become some pawn in this little hunt of yours, but I only got a few scratches out of it. Overall, I'm _okay_."

Dean grabbed her hand, turning it over to point to the gauze wrapped around her palm. "You're not okay and this… _this _isn't okay. Not anymore."

"What are you saying, Dean?" Peyton asked, her bottom lip quivering from the outpouring of everything hitting her a once.

She had spent the last few hours walking the French Quarter lost in thought, trying to piece together her thoughts on the last few days.

_She _had made the decision to come with Dean to New Orleans. He had warned her how dangerous it could be, but she didn't care. She had to be with him.

So she'd gotten a little banged up in the process. They were war wounds. It was a reminder to her that they were worth fighting for. She wasn't going to give up that easily and she wasn't going to let him do so either.

Things would be so much simpler this way, Dean thought as he looked back at Peyton. But on which of them would it be easier on? Him since he was the one wanting to call it quits to protect her? Her because he was the one willing to walk away? Both of them?

Ending things wouldn't be easy on either of them, he reasoned. They would both hurt. Emotionally. Physically. But he could live with hurting. He could take the emotional and physical pain of losing Peyton, of walking away from her if it meant that she'd be safe.

But living with himself if something happened to her that was a direct result of her being involved with him? That was something he couldn't endure.

Before he could open his mouth to say what he so desperately wanted to say, Peyton cut him off.

"You know what? No. I'm not going to let you do it."

"Do what?" he sighed. "Hurt you? Almost get you killed? Because, uh, been there, done that."

"I'm a part of this and you're not going to give up that easily, Dean. I got a little banged up, what's the big deal?"

"Dammit, Peyton, you could've died. I almost got you killed and I won't…," he choked. "I _can't _watch someone else in my life die. I won't let _you _die."

"Then you'll have to stick around to protect me."

---

Peyton had slept on the majority of the ride home and Dean had been grateful for the silence. He hadn't wanted to talk further about what had happened in New Orleans. He was happy to leave it where it was. But he knew it wouldn't stay there. Not for long.

He breathed a sigh of relief as they entered Tree Hill. Night had already fallen and most of the shops were already shut down on the main strip. Karen's Café, however, wasn't one of them. Slowing in front of the café, he asked Peyton, "Did you want to stop?"

She quickly shook her head. "Let's just go home."

_Home_. Well, wouldn't that be nice?

Within ten minutes he was parking outside her house. Turning off the engine, he grabbed their bags from the backseat as Peyton led the way up to the house. "It's good to be back," she said as she unlocked the door, leading him inside. Closing the door, she leaned back against it, staring at him as he placed their bags beside the staircase. "So what now?"

Dean stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. "You could go take a shower, or something."

"That actually doesn't sound half bad. What're you going to do?"

"I have a few calls to return," he said as he extracted his phone from his pocket.

"Okay," she said with a nod of her head. With a kiss to his cheek, she said, "Don't be too long."

Dean watched her make her way upstairs before he stepped onto the porch. Dialing his voicemail box, he listened through the many voicemails left by Lucas and Haley, but had never been more relieved to hear his dad's voice.

His relief suddenly dissipated as he listened to the message through.

"_Dean… something is starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try to figure out what's going on. Be very careful Dean. We're all in danger._"

The majority of the message was drowned out by static, but it didn't calm Dean's feelings whatsoever that this was something to be easily ignored.

_Be very careful Dean. We're all in danger._

The first place his mind went was to Sam who was off at college, ignorant to all the supernatural happenings going on while he was attending classes and frat parties.

Dean snapped his phone shut, leaning his head against the brick wall behind him. This was not what he needed right now not with things with he and Peyton so strained after the events of New Orleans.

He banged his head against the wall, hating how everything was falling into place.

But one thing remained certain.

He'd have to leave. Even though with every fiber of his being he didn't want to, he couldn't ignore this.

His dad was in trouble and needed his help. This was a lead that he had to follow through.

And he had to do it without Peyton.

---

Dean took one last longing look at Peyton before he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the room. He was at the door downstairs when he heard, "You weren't even going to say goodbye?"

Dean bent his head, turning slowly to look toward the stairs where Peyton stood staring down at him. Slowly she began her descent down the stairs as he dropped his duffel at his feet. "I just figured that it'd be easier to just leave."

"Easier for who, Dean? You?"

"No. Of course not."

She shook her head, scoffing, "You're such a coward."

"I am not," he insisted, even though he really was. Otherwise, why did he wait for her to go to sleep before he snuck out of her room. Coward didn't even begin to cover what he was.

"Yes, you are. The entire summer you've ran from how you really feel about me, about us and now at the first opportunity you're doing the exact thing that you've wanted to do all along -you're running."

"I am _not _running!" he shouted. "My father needs me."

"I need you!"

Dean crossed the space between them quickly, pulling her into his arms as she started to cry. "Shh…," he began to soothe her. "Don't cry, Peyton. _Please_, don't cry."

"Then don't leave, Dean. Please?"

"You know I can't stay. I have to go."

"Then, let me come with you."

Dean shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. Besides, school is starting soon. You can't skip school."

Peyton wiped at her tears, nodding her head. "I'm being selfish."

"You're allowed to be," he told her quietly. "You know I'd stay, but…"

"Your dad needs you." Peyton nodded her head. Even though he was leaving for what she feared was much longer this time, she knew that he had to go. His family was way too important to him to just abandon them for her. "You have a job to do. You should go."

But his feet didn't move. Instead, he dipped his head to attack her mouth, then swept her into his arms to carry her upstairs.

---

After Peyton had fallen back asleep, Dean had laid awake watching her, committing every contour of her face to memory knowing that this was the last time he'd look at her for a long time.

Possibly forever.

He didn't want to leave her, but he was needed elsewhere. He knew he was needed here, too, but he couldn't turn his back on his family.

Slipping out of bed, he scooped up his jeans from the floor, quietly sliding them up his legs. them back on.

Crossing the room to Peyton's desk, Dean quickly found a notebook and a pen, his eyes returning to her sleeping form once more before he sat down in her desk chair and began scribbling his parting words onto paper.

---

With his duffel slung over his shoulder and his letter to Peyton in hand, Dean crossed to the bed, placing the letter on the pillow beside her.

Sitting down beside her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, "I'm sorry I have to leave like this… while you're still asleep. You were right. I _am _a coward. But I can't watch you watch me leave. And I sure as hell can't watch you cry as I'm leaving. It'll be easier on both of us this way."

Dean just wished that he honestly believed that.

"We both knew this day would come. I just hate that it finally did. You know if this wasn't important I wouldn't be leaving. But maybe it's better this way."

Dean wiped at his eyes, not enjoying the feel of the tears stinging his eyes. He knew that it was going to hard to leave, but he hadn't thought it'd be _this _hard.

Smoothing his hand down her hair, he whispered, "Goodbye, Peyton," and after a kiss to her lips, made his way toward the door without a look back, fully aware of what he was leaving behind.

_Fin._


End file.
